


The Engagement

by melrosie



Category: The Proposal (2009)
Genre: Almost Kiss, F/F, Genderswap, Sharing a Bed, i basically rewrote the film but with wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 02:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15876213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melrosie/pseuds/melrosie
Summary: Publishing is a competitive industry, and Margaret Tate did not work as hard as she has for the last twenty three years to have one desperate man ruin it all for her. In an effort to thwart a plan to blackmail her, Margaret convinces her assistant, Andrea Paxton to marry her. Despite the pretense of their relationship, when Margaret meets Andrea's wealthy family, moguls in the small city of Sitka, Alaska, this start to change. Fast. But their troubles aren't over, because the same desperate man who sent them down this road to begin with believes he has the upper hand, and years of proof to show that this impending marriage is all a sham.





	1. Finding a Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently spent some time watching many of Sandra Bullock's films, and The Proposal (2009) was one of them. My friend gave me the idea to retell the story with the sole difference of Andrew being Andrea instead, and I spent the better part of a week developing and writing it.
> 
> I used both the screenplay (an early version I imagine), and a dialogue transcript I found online as a guide, to try to remain as true to the story I assume those who have seen the film, know well. However there are quite a few differences between the final film and the script, so I took a few creative liberties!
> 
> I like to consider this a combination of formats paying homage to both prose and screenwriting.
> 
> I will link important references in the notes of each chapter!
> 
> A photo ref to Andrea's clothes & body, [here.](https://78.media.tumblr.com/8c0568aadec59aad7f5be2ce0367955a/tumblr_peg96n9qei1shc5aro5_r1_1280.png)

The blaring of an alarm rouses Andrea Paxton with a start. The morning light streams in the window, and with a groan she searches around her messy bed for the source of the sound. She finally finds her phone in the nest of her bed sheets and blankets and turns off the alarm. 

The battery is at 6 percent. Andrea sighs, finger combing her hair out of her face and reaching out to plug in the phone, and puts it on Airplane Mode for good measure before clambering out of bed.

In a tank top and slim fit sweatpants, Andrea’s muscular figure is clear as day. She throws all her blankets and sheets to the end of her bed and replaces the pillows, grabbing her laptop which lays open on the other side of the bed. She places it on the bedside table and makes the bed hastily. Her clothes from the day before are draped over a chair, which she passes as she pads barefoot toward the kitchen. 

\--

The bed of Margaret Tate is empty and half-made, the sound of a steady pace on a treadmill can be heard from the other room. At an incline with weights around her ankles and wrists, Margaret is walking while simultaneously reading a manuscript. She seems quite ensconced in it, until an alarm chirps, and she takes a deep breath. Margaret turns up the speed on the treadmill and finishes her workout with a sprint. 

\--

Andrea does jumping jacks in her kitchen while the timer counts down a few minutes on her breakfast. She switches to high-knees after thirty seconds and finally ends up doing some push ups until the microwave beeps. She carefully frees a breakfast burrito from the appliance and deposits it on a plate. It is steaming so much that she can’t eat it so she leaves it on the counter to cool and rushes off toward the washroom. 

\--

A bowl of yogurt and granola is in Margaret’s hand as she continues to read the manuscript, now freshly showered and standing in a robe with a towel over her hair as she eats and reads. She turns a page meticulously, nodding slightly as she finishes her page, pausing and keeping her spoon in her mouth as she reads over a particularly riveting section of text. 

\-- 

Andrea blow dries her hair, now dressed and made up for work. She wore the same clothes yesterday, but the slim fit trousers and button down shirt are clean and unwrinkled thanks to her having steamed them while she was in the shower. Andrea runs her brush through her hair after a moment and considers herself satisfied with the result. 

Andrea unplugs the hair dryer and turns off the light and rushes down the hall to her desk in the living room. She gathers several stacks of paper, straightening them out in their folders before slipping them into her bag. In a moment of consideration, she returns to her room and grabs her laptop and phone, stuffing them and her travel chargers into the bag as well. The last thing she does before leaving her apartment is take her phone off Airplane Mode and send a quick text. 

\--

Now in a cab, Margaret is is dressed and made up for work. She reads the manuscript still. 

Her hair has been done up in a bun. Her calf length black pencil style dress is elegant and classy, and she wears a matching jacket over it and a pair of black heels. 

She shuts the manuscript, the by line is visible and reads; WRITTEN BY DEIDRA PARKER. Just as she’s slipping out of a cab, her phone buzzes and she fishes it out of her bag, smiling when she sees who is calling her. 

“Hello Frank! How’s my favourite writer?” She listens and smiles as she makes her way up the pedestrian filled streets to the ROYCE & HUNT Publishing offices. 

“Of course you’ve been thinking about our talk, because you know I’m right.” 

\--

Andrea rushes into a Starbucks, clearly having been running. There is a long line, but a barista stands at the far end of the, beckoning Andrea over. A tray of two coffees is waiting for her. 

“Running late today?” The short haired barista says, teasing. 

Andrea smiles. “Fell asleep at my laptop— thanks Jill, you’re a lifesaver.” She takes the coffees and drops some money in her hand, heading back out of the shop just as quickly as she arrived. 

Through thick traffic, Andrea now weaves between cars that honk and move at a snail’s pace. She pushes her way into the ROYCE & HUNT Publishing offices, and barely makes it into a closing elevator. She takes a deep breath and the doors slide shut. 

\--

“Frank, people in this country are busy, broke and exhausted, they need someone to tell them to… to not watch CSI: Cyber but pick up a book— your book. I know you haven’t done publicity in twenty years, but that’s how long it’s taken for you to come up with this incredible book.”

She listens for a moment, smiling calmly. “I’m pushing you because it would be a crime if the world doesn’t hear about your genius piece of literature. From your mouth.” Another pause as she enters the building and stands outside the elevator, pressing the up button. “No I’m not just saying all this to help you sell more books… so you’ll do Ellen? You’re making the right decision.”

The elevator dings. “I’ll send you an email with the details today okay? I’m heading into an elevator so I might lose you…” She hangs up, not letting him change his mind.

\--

Andrea drops off her bag and coffee on her medium sized desk, and slips immediately into the glass walled office a few feet away. 

She straightens stacks of manuscripts on a table in an office with the title EDITOR IN CHIEF etched in large bold font on the glass door and the name MARGARET TATE etched just underneath that. 

Margaret’s large desk is full of books and other manuscripts, a phone, and behind it all is a large computer. Andrea had placed a coffee on the desk next to the the day’s itinerary which she had printed two copies, and is now holding one.

\--

A staff member notices Margaret’s arrival and quickly message to the staff group chat. 

**HBIC has landed!**

Everyone stops their idle chit-chat and quickly takes their seats at their cubicles and gets to work. Margaret notices all of the employees go from relaxed to heedful at her arrival. She has an expression of calm authority on her face, she finds the urgency of their actions amusing but she won’t show them that. 

“Morning Boss.” Andrea chirps, standing a little ways away from the door and following Margaret as she moves through the space.

She immediately heads to her desk. She leaves her bag on a coat hanger, and sits down in her chair, barely glancing down at the itinerary as she picks up her coffee.

“You have a conference call in 30 minutes.” Andrea has the schedule memorized already.

Margaret nods. “Yep, about the marketing for the spring books.”

“You have a client appointment at nine.”

“Did you call… what was her name? — the one with the crow hands.” 

Andrea tries to stifle a smile. “Janet.”

“Yes Janet.” Margaret motions dismissively. 

“I called her. I told her if she doesn’t get her manuscript in on time, you won’t give her a release date— your immigration lawyer called, he has some papers for you to sign.” 

Margaret only seems to be half-listening, she nods idly. She takes a sip of her coffee, and sighs. 

“Reschedule the conference call. Cancel the appointment. Have the papers ready for me before lunch.” She pauses, hardly able to hide her accomplished smile. “And you’ll need to contact PR and have them draft a press release, I got Frank on board for publicity.” 

Andrea’s face lights up. “Wow, nicely done.”

“If I want your praise I’ll ask for it.” Margaret says a bit deprecatingly. She glances at the coffee and turns it around, raising a brow. “Oh— ‘ _have a great day sexy’_ with a heart…’ _love Jill_ ’ — an admirer?”

Andrea goes pink, looking over at Margaret as she turns the cup over to show Andrea the flirty scrawl. 

“Oh… that might have been my coffee.”

“And it’s a _coincidence_ that you drink cinnamon coconut milk lattes with two pumps of syrup?” Margaret seems skeptical. Andrea rubs her neck embarrassedly. 

“Uh no… three years is a long time to get your morning coffee order. I got curious so I tried it, and I liked it…” Andrea shrugs, hoping she’ll move past it. 

“You don’t seem like a latte type.” Margaret says, staring her down. 

“No.” Andrea agrees. “But I’m really picky about _coffee_ and I gotta brew it myself so it’s just a matter of convenience.”

The phone rings, and with relief Andrea steps over to a phone near the doorway. Margaret is still watching her. Andrea looks away, picking up the phone.

“Margaret Tate’s office, Andrea speaking.” She listens, noddings. “Yes Bob she just got in.”

Margaret motions at her and Andrea glances at her attentively, Margaret mouths ‘We’re going to his office now’ as she points toward Bob’s office. 

Andrea nods. “Y’know what Bob, we’re actually headed by your office right now.”

Margaret rises, leaving her coffee, and Andrea walks to the door, holding it for her as she slips out. She grabs her own coffee off her desk and falls into step with Margaret. 

“Did you read the manuscript I gave you?” Andrea asks, taking a swig of coffee. 

“Mhm, some.” Margaret hums dismissively. “It’s alright.” She’s being blasé about it.

Andrea bristles slightly, but takes a deep breath. “I have read thousands of your slush manuscripts, this is the only one I’ve given you in good faith— I think it has real potential.”

Margaret isn’t listening, they’re getting closer to Bob’s office. Andrea realizes that she won’t get anywhere on this subject. 

“You’re my eyes in there, not a peep.” She makes eye contact with Andrea who mimes zipping her lips and turning a key. 

They step into Bob’s office, he looks very comfortable reclined in his leather office chair. 

“Our fearless leader and her liege, please feel make yourselves at home.” Bob stays reclined, smiling in a way that is starkly uninviting. 

Andrea remains a few paces back, out of the way, and watches Margaret pace around the space, taking it in. 

“Beautiful breakfront, is it new?” Margaret asks, motioning to the beautifully crafted piece of wood work. 

With a proud smile, Bob sits forward in his seat. “English Regency Egyptian Revival, built in the 1800’s. But it is new to my office, yes.”

“Witty.” Margaret says, not meaning it in the slightest. “I’m letting you go.” 

Andrea is surprised, but doesn’t speak or move. Bob is surprised too.

“Excuse me?” 

Margaret stares him down, calm as an arrow out of a bow. “How many times did I ask you to get Frank to do publicity, hm? You never did.” 

“I told you it was impossible!” Bob exclaims adamantly, getting a little red. 

“Did you even call him?” Margaret questions. Bob stands, slamming his hands on the top of his desk. Andrea gives a little start.

“He doesn’t do publicity— he hasn’t for twe—” Bob exclaims but Margaret interrupts.

“I got off the phone with him less than ten minutes ago. He’ll do the publicity. You’re fired.”

There is a fevered silence in the room. Bob is even redder now. 

“I’ll give you two months to find a new job. Then we can say you resigned.” Margaret turns away and leaves Bob’s office with Andrea in tow. The glass door clicks shut behind them. 

“Talk to me, what’s he doing?” Margaret says. Andrea looks over her shoulder, clutching her coffee to her chest. 

“He’s pacing— he’s got crazy eyes… he’s moving— oh, don’t do it Bob...” Andrea braces herself. 

“You poisonous **BITCH** !” Bob hollers, visibly sweating in his button up shirt. “You can’t fire me!” 

He steps forward, Margaret and Andrea turn around to face him. 

He carries on, “I see what you’re doing! Canning me over some stupid publicity thing— trying to make yourself look good when all you are is a pushy conceited hag!”

“Bob stop!” Andrea interjects, but he does not, approaching still, gesturing aggressively. 

“Just because you have no life outside of this office doesn’t mean you are any better than the rest of us! I feel— I feel sorry for you actually, because what are you going to have on your deathbed? Nothing and no-one!” He jab at her forcefully with his index finger, hitting her shoulder. 

“Whoa!” Andrea barks, smacking Bob’s hand away from Margaret and stepping in front of her. Bob jerks his hand, intimidated by Andrea’s sudden assertiveness and height, and reacts by shoving his hands out to put space between them. 

He knocks Andrea’s coffee, spilling the contents all over her white shirt. She sucks in a sharp gasp when she feels the hot coffee, and Margaret pushes her out of the way. Bob looks alarmed. 

Margaret’s words are loud and cutting. “Listen to me carefully. I am firing you because you’re lazy, entitled, and incompetent, and you spend more time cheating on your wife than you do in your office.” She steps closer to him, and Andrea visibly grimaces, and not from the coffee. 

“I gave you _two months_ to find a new job. I gave you a clean and quiet exit. I am now giving you a week, and as of this moment you are going to be escorted out of the building for assaulting my assistant. You’re done for the day, Bob. Get out of the building.” 

She turns away and guides Andrea back in the direction of her office. 

“Alright?” 

“Fine.” Andrea replies through gritted teeth, though she isn’t sure. 

“Alright, well… do you have an extra shirt with you, I can’t have you covered in coffee all day.” Her concern has deviated to more superficial subjects. 

“I have _something_ in my desk.” She says. Margaret pats her shoulder. 

“Okay. Go get cleaned up.”

\--

Andrea stands in in her bra in front of the bathroom mirrors holding a cold washcloth over the slight burn on the skin of her abdomen. Her stained shirt sits on the counter next to her, and she already cleaned off whatever stickiness that was on her.

A light hoodie sits folded over the door of one of the bathroom stalls on top of her blazer, the hoodie is light grey, and thankfully complementary to the colours of her outfit. 

There is a knock at the door before Margaret opens the door. Immediately her gaze glides over Andrea’s muscular figure, but she clears her throat and tries to appear disinterested. 

“Damage?” 

“Minimal, should calm down by the end of the day.” 

“Good.” Margaret says, glancing down at her phone as Andrea grabs the hoodie and shrugs it on, and puts the blazer on as well, returning to the mirror to make any necessary adjustment. Margaret hasn’t looked up.

“I’m going to need you this weekend to help me redistribute Bob’s files to other editors.” Margaret says, and Andrea looks at her, meeting her gaze in the mirror. Margaret gives her a skeptical look. “A hoodie?” 

“Better than coffee stains?” Andrea argues lightly, but her next words are softer, more careful. “You gave me this weekend off.”

“I did?” 

Andrea picks up her stained shirt, motioning for Margaret to go ahead. They leave the bathroom. 

“Yes, you approved the request last month.” 

“What’s the occasion?” She shouldn’t ask. 

“Going home for my Grandma’s 90th birthday.” Andrea replies somewhat reluctantly. 

“I know this is last minute, but with Bob gone we’ll need a new editor…” She’s going fishing and hoping Andrea will bite. 

“Top pick, Margaret. I want to be top choice.” Andrea says seriously. “I’ll call and cancel with my family later.”

Margaret merely smiles approvingly. As they near her office they both spot a man standing beyond the glass walls, hands in his pockets, looking at some of the certificates framed on the walls. 

“Who is in my office?” Margaret asks alarmedly. Andrea looks at her watch. 

“Might be your nine o’clock… very early.” 

Margaret groans. “What’s his name?” 

“Gilbertson.” Andrea says, she knows the schedule by heart. 

“I can’t have this last more than ten minutes, so cut in about an important phone call in like five minutes.”

“Got it.” Andrea sighs and watches Margaret go into her office. She makes her way to her desk, slipping into the chair with a sigh, she picks up the phone. 

\--

Margaret enters her office cooly, not bothering to greet the man. He is dressed in what could only be described as “professional hipster” attire. The look does not suit him. 

“Please have a seat.” Margaret says as she sits down at her desk, motioning at the chairs in front of her. He sits, giving her a smile that isn’t wholly genuine. 

“Margaret, it’s wonderful to see you. I know how busy you are.” His words are overly familiar, but Margaret doesn’t recognize him. 

“Shall we get straight to it.” Margaret says. “I can’t recall if we’ve met before, Mister Gilbertson.”

He nods calmly. “Five years ago, we worked together. ‘ _Dandelion Dreams_.” He coaxes hoping it will click. 

Margaret remembers and smiles, letting out some humoured laughter. “You read the manuscript with me. That book was a legend among the editing team! It was such a mess we wondered how it had gotten to us.”

Gilbertson raises a brow, that same ingenuine smile on his face. “A legend?” 

Margaret is laughing at the memory. “A nine hundred page fever dream! 30 characters you couldn’t keep straight all with alliterative titles ‘asthmatic accountant’ or the ‘paraplegic pornographer’ — true dedication without a ounce of pull.” She turns her amused smile on Gilbertson. “Did you get to see the rejection letter I wrote him?” 

Without hesitation, Gilbertson replies, quoting, “ I did. ‘Your grammar is impeccable, but please do not confuse superior form with writing ability. Save your skills for the office newsletter, you sir, are no writer.’” 

Margaret blinks, expression sobering. “You wrote ‘ _Dandelion Dreams_.” Statement of fact.

“Yes.”

“Dante Dickens.” She says skeptically, noting the egotism in using two literary figures in ones pen name. Dante Alighieri and Charles Dickens. 

“One of my _noms de plume_.” He says casually. 

There is a brief silence between them before Margaret clears her throat. 

“You obviously spent a lot of time writing, I just think that passion would be better channeled into something else.” 

Gilbertson fishes into his pocket and Margaret stiffens, uncertain. She glances out the glass walls of her office toward Andrea’s desk hoping to catch her gaze. But she is on the phone facing away from Margaret’s office. 

\--

Andrea presses the phone to her ear, covering her other ear with her hand. She looks dejected and a little guilt ridden as she speaks into the phone.

“I know… I know— please just tell Gammy I’m sorry… Mom, what do you want me to tell you? I’ve work really hard for this promotion, and there’s been an opening. I’m a shoe-in if I stick it out. If this works out I’ll be able to visit you soon okay? — Yeah I’m sure dad’s pissed. Publishing is a competitive business alright? What can I say?” 

\--

Gilbertson stands from his seat, placing a badge on the desk. “I’m with US Immigration Services, Mis Tate.” 

“Excuse me?” She replies sharply. 

“You went to the Frankfurt Book Fair last year.” He says. “While some of your immigration documents were still being processed.” 

“My lawyer assured me that wouldn’t…”

“Ah… yes, with a good lawyer these kinds of minor infractions rarely impede the approval process— however, I just so happen to be the agent in charge of your case.” 

Margaret stares at him. “I have been in the US since I was fourteen years old… I put the papers through for citizenship as—”

“As soon as you garnered yourself that precious promotion you’ve been working so hard for.” He smiles, it’s not a friendly expression. “My office is going to reject your application by Tuesday morning. Unless we can make some arrangement.” 

Margaret looks scared, and angry. She understands what he wants.

“Absolutely not. I am not publishing your book.” 

Gilbertson smiles again, it’s beginning to make Margaret feel a little sick. “I’ve edited it down, it’s better.” He says softly, patronizing. 

“I will be laughed out of the publishing industry if I take your book.” 

“You will be escorted out of the country otherwise. I am a _desperate man_ , Mis Tate. An auteur. I’m not meant to sit at a desk and bring lunchables with me to my nine-to-five and only afford to live in my brother’s garage.” 

“I will not publish your book.” Margaret says, glancing back over at Andrea through the glass. 

“No need to be difficult.” He says, sounding like he’s talking to a child. “You have the whole long weekend to make a choice.” 

“This is blackmail. I can go to your boss.”

“I’ve been planning for a long time Mis Tate. I’m a step ahead of you in every way.”

His words make her feel incredibly uneasy. Suddenly the door opens and Andrea steps halfway in. 

“Mis Tate, Mary from Mr. Winfried’s office is on the line for you, she says it’s urgent.” Andrea says, clocking Margaret’s look of discomfort. 

Gilbertson turns to face Andrea, skeptically. “The phone didn’t ring.” 

“I monitor calls while Mis Tate is otherwise engaged, sir.” She gives him her best fake smile. 

Margaret winds around the desk, beckoning Andrea into her office. 

“Mister Gilbertson, would you please wait outside while I take this? It won’t take long. Andrea would you have Lisa show him to the break room for a coffee and some refreshments.” She isn’t giving him any room to refuse. Andrea holds out a hand and guides Mr. Gilbertson out of the office. 

Margaret watches Andrea introduce him to Lisa and sends them off to the break room, and watches her come straight back into Margaret’s office. 

“Something’s wrong.” Andrea says matter-of-factly. Margaret takes a few deep breaths. 

“He’s from INS.” She says. “He wants me to publish his book or he’ll make sure I’m not granted citizenship.”

“What the fuck?” Andrea says, approaching Margaret’s desk. “This guy is engaged in some fantasy if he thinks he can pull this off.”

Margaret looks up. “What did you say?” 

Andrea looks at her concernedly she repeats herself more slowly. “This guy is engaged in—”

“Engaged.” Margaret says thoughtfully.

“Pardon?” Andrea squeaks. 

Margaret looks at Andrea intensely. “Marry me.”

“What!?” 

“He couldn’t have considered that.” 

“Margaret, what are you saying?” Andrea asks, seriously. 

“He thinks he’s got an edge on me, but if we get married, I win. I can stay.”

“Margaret that is a bit extreme, I’m sure your lawyer can—” 

“I’ll make sure you get editor.” Margaret interrupts, and Andrea swallows hard, considering. 

It’s the position she’s been working toward for years. “Fine.” 

Margaret spots Lisa returning with Gilbertson, and waves for him to come back in. He has a donut and coffee in his hands. Andrea does not fetch the door for him, letting him return to the office himself. 

“I hope you enjoy the coffee, Mister Gilbertson, it will be your last in this building.” Margaret says. He regards her suspiciously. 

“How’s that?” 

“I won’t publish your book.” Margaret says, _point finale_.

Gilbertson looks at Andrea, then back at Margaret. 

“I guess you’ll be returning to Canada soon then.” He says cooly, dipping his donut in his coffee. 

“I’m not going anywhere, we’re getting married.” Margaret motions at Andrea. 

This takes Gilbertson by surprise, but he laughs. “You think I’m gonna buy that? I’ve got proof going back four years that your schedule doesn’t include anything or anyone other than this job. No one will believe you are in a relationship with this woman.” 

Andrea crosses her arms. “I suggest you leave.” 

Gilbertson laughs rudely. “Fraudulent marriage charges can amount to up to five years in prison or a two-hundred and fifty thousand dollar fine! And I’m sure you’d won’t be able to prove you’re together.”

Andrea swallows hard but doesn’t say anything. Margaret steps around her desk and wraps her arm around Andrea’s waist. “We are getting married, and you have no case. Get out of my office.” 

Gilbertson continues to giggle, stuffing the rest of his donut into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. 

He speaks with his mouth half full. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, kid. Do you even know her at all? ‘Cause you’ll have a lot of questions to answer about each other to prove you’re a couple.”

“I’ve known her for years, thank you very much.” 

“Oh?” He replies, condescendingly. “What’s her favourite colour?” 

“I don’t have to answer your questions.” Andrea retorts. 

“Just do it.” Margaret encourages softly.

“Plum.” Andrea says. 

“So purple?” 

“No.” Andrea replies. “Plum is smokier.”

“Favourite flower?” 

“Tulips, but only in season.”

“Does anyone know about your engagement?” He thinks they have them caught.

Andrea answers seamlessly. “We have been keeping the relationship private. I wouldn’t look good— what with my _upcoming promotion_ — if the other staff knew about us.” 

Margaret agrees. “She has gone above and beyond these last few years, she deserves an editor’s position.” 

“What about your families?” He tries.

“My parents have been dead for a long time.”

“How convenient.” He scoffs. “I could put you in prison for these shaky answers alone.” He’s bluffing.

“We’re telling Andrea’s parents this weekend.” Margaret says. “For her grandmother’s birthday.”

“Where would that be?”

“Her parent’s home.” She doesn’t know.

“Sitka… Alaska.” Andrea says reluctantly.

Gilbertson finishes his coffee, and tosses the empty paper cup toward a waste-paper-basket, misses, but doesn’t pick it up. “Gotta say, Mis Tate, I didn’t take you for a Carpet Muncher…” he steps toward the door. 

“Get out!’ Andrea barks, but he just laughs, slipping his hand into his pocket and giving them another ingenuine smile. 

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you both.” He says, and takes his leave. 

The door clicks shut and they watch him go, silently all the way to the elevator. They don’t say a thing until the doors have closed. 

Margaret pulls away, and returns to her desk, sorting through some papers, and taking a few deep breaths. 

“We need to figure out a travel itinerary, I need to pack— and I need to contact my lawyer…” She’s talking to Andrea but the other woman hasn’t moved, and while Margaret isn’t paying attention she has become more and more distressed, close to tears and nearly hyperventilating. A tiny stifled sob draws Margaret’s attention. 

“Andrea?” 

“I need some air!” She chokes out, and rushes from the office without looking back. 

“Andrea! Andrea wait!” Margaret goes after her, but Andrea has a head start and more practical shoes. 

\--

Andrea rushes through the office, grabbing her bag as she goes and heads to the elevators. The rest of the staff notices Margaret’s pursuit, but no one says a word. 

“Andrea, please come back to the office! Andrea!” Margaret barely manages to catch up as an elevator arrives, but Andrea doesn’t try to stop her from catching up. 

“Andrea!” 

“You don’t get to do that right now!” Andrea retorts, eyes swimming with tears, she’s still close to hyperventilating. The elevator doors slide shut behind them. 

“We need to talk.” Margaret says firmly, and Andrea looks up leaning her head against the wall of the elevator, trying to focus on catching her breath. 

“I said _I need some air_ , so if you want to talk to me you’re coming with me.”

“Where are you gonna go?” Margaret asks, the elevator moves down each floor with a gentle mechanical hum. 

“I just need to walk.” She says, wiping her eyes. “The park. I’m going to the park.” 

“Will you wait and let me go back upstairs and get better shoes?” Margaret says, and Andrea swallows thickly, shaking her head, a thick tear slips down her cheek.

“No. Just meet me there, if you must— by the south exit, near the pond.” The elevator stops and the doors slide open, Andrea gets out and stalks away, leaving Margaret to watch her until the elevator doors slide shut again. 

\--

Andrea walks along the pedestrian filled streets of New York, calmer but still upset. The park is a few blocks away, visible by the thick of greenery starkly contrasting the cement grey of the city. Andrea’s attention is drawn by a sign outside a luxurious looking jewelry boutique, denoting a sale on wedding bands. She stops, oblivious to the pedestrian that almost runs into her. 

She steps inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments are greatly appreciated!


	2. On My Nerves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are two relevant outfit references. [Airport](https://78.media.tumblr.com/53229d8e564fa6fb8ac8d7465073c7ae/tumblr_peg96n9qei1shc5aro2_1280.png) and [Party](https://78.media.tumblr.com/05be2c1a5a3c214e879b7512b7e5f673/tumblr_peg96n9qei1shc5aro1_1280.png).

Margaret approaches the park, wearing a pair of sleek black sneakers, that somehow doesn’t ruin her work outfit. She looks around for Andrea but doesn’t see her. 

She starts into the park, toward the pond which is bordered by a fair fence of young trees and flower bushes. There aren’t many people here now, but it is a popular spot for young kids to feed ducks. 

The city’s hum is quieted a little by the tree coverage. Margaret finally spots Andrea, sitting on a bench with her knees draw up to her chest, watching some ducks on the water. 

“Andrea.” She says in greeting, coming to sit down next to her on the bench. 

“This is crazy.” Andrea says, she’s calm now.

“People get married spontaneously everyday.” Margaret tries, and receives a displeased expression from Andrea. 

“He wants to fuck up your life, Margaret. He can put me in jail. He also strongly implied that he has been _stalking_ you.” Andrea holds out her hand, giving Margaret a look. 

Margaret takes her hand, understanding and restraining herself from looking over her shoulder.

“I can’t let him manipulate me. I worked too hard for this.” 

“I know the story, I helped you write your bio for the ‘about’ section on the website.”

Margaret sighs. “Marrying you means I can stay here and keep working. It means I’ll make you editor. It means I can apply for citizenship in three years. Then we can get divorced and that’s that. We can say it was amicable.”

“I’d like something else.”

“What?” 

“The manuscript I gave you? You didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it, but would you shop it around to other houses? I’d like to see if anyone bites.” 

Margaret looks at Andrea hard, deciding whether or not to admit she actually enjoyed it. She ends up distracted by the way Andrea is holding her hand. She looks at their fingers knotted on her lap. “I’ll do what I can.” 

“Okay.” 

Andrea smiles, the first since Gilbertson left the office. “You do know that I’m a lesbian, right?”

Margaret raises a brow. “Well the coffee cup this morning…” She peters off, maintaining eye contact with Andrea for a long beat. “I could consider myself bisexual.” She says finally. 

Andrea laughs, a full laugh that reaches her eyes. “Could?” 

“College.” Margaret shrugs. “Kept all that private for the sake of the job.” 

Andrea nods, she understands. She sighs, reaching into her bag and pulling out a ring box. Margaret doesn’t notice.

“We’re ‘ _making this happen_ ’... so I want to tell my family on my terms. Alright?” 

“Of course, that’s fi—”

“Gimme your left hand.” Andrea says dropping her knees. Margaret looks confused, but does, holding out her hand. Andrea opens the ring box where two rings are nestled among the velvet. One is a band embedded with diamonds, and the other is the same with a bigger diamond in the middle. 

“When did you—?” Margaret gapes as Andrea slips the ring onto her finger. “How do you know my ring size?” 

“I’ve worked for you for almost four years, remember?” Andrea says, and watches Margaret admire the ring. 

“How much was this?” Margaret asks. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Andrea says, clearing her throat. 

“Of course it matters, I can’t—”

“I want you to ask me.” Andrea interrupts again, holding out the ring box for her. 

“Ask you what?” 

“I want you to nicely ask me to marry you.” Andrea says, enjoying this just a little. Margaret takes the box, noting how the rings match. 

“Andrea…”

“On one knee.” 

“Really?” Margaret says skeptically. Andrea nods. 

Margaret sighs, slipping off the bench and onto one knee in front of Andrea, holding out the ring box and opening it for her. 

“Andrea Paxton.” 

“Yes, Margaret?” 

“Patient, sweet Andrea.” She tries to hide her amusement.

Andrea on the other hand, grins. “Go on.”

“Would you please do me the favour of marrying me?”

Andrea’s smile softens, and she nods. “Thank you.” 

“You call that a yes?” Margaret complains. 

Andrea laughs again. “Yes. I’ll marry you. Geez.” She holds out her hand and Margaret obligingly slips the ring into her finger and rises, sitting on the bench again, looking down at their rings thoughtfully. 

Andrea glances at her watch. “The flight will be at eight.” She says. 

Margaret raises a brow. “You’ve already booked it?” 

“No, mine was. When we go back to the office I’ll take care of your ticket. You’re not going to have very good reception in Sitka. You’ll be largely unreachable. And you’ll have to pack at some point.” 

“I’m sure we can get everything done by four. Pack, rendez-vous and get to the airport for six thirty?” It’s almost possible to see the gears turning in her head. 

\--

Andrea waits near the check-in terminals with her emerald green luggage set at her side, thumbing away at the touch screen of her phone. She is finishing last minute emails, and clearing the schedule for the rest of the weekend. 

She’d just finished an “away” message to automatically reply to anyone who emails Margaret or herself for the next three days, making sure their clients are assured that they will get back to them come Tuesday. 

She is wearing slim fit dark grey sweatpants, and comfortable slip on shoes with warm socks. Her long sleeved shirt is black and has a high neckline, and she has on a light knit grey belted coat with a high collar.

Her makeup is subtler than at work and she has opted for skin care that will get her through the drying air of their flight. She has also forgotten a pencil in her hair, which she has tied in a low bun. 

It is six twenty five when she spots Margaret, and finds herself unsurprised by the fashionable way her boss, and fiancée, has chosen to dress. 

High waisted trousers and a floral blouse, high heeled leather boots and a moderately thick long brown knit cardigan. She’s wearing her hair down. Andrea thinks Margaret might end up being a little cold, if not a little uncomfortable later on in their travels. 

They’re both still wearing their rings. 

“Let’s go get our bags checked, shall we?” Margaret says, and strolls off ahead of her. 

\--

Their first flight is six hours from New York to Seattle. The first class seats are spacious and comfortable with plenty of arm room. Margaret and Andrea have been working, on only outstanding assignments that they could handle completely in-house. No calls or emails. 

After a few hours Andrea had put her work away and dozed off. She wakes with a little over two hours left in their flight. She glances at Margaret, still working beside her, and slips a list on two pages out of her bag, glancing at it. 

“You should take a break.” Andrea says quietly, and Margaret looks up, she hadn’t noticed that Andrea had woken. 

“Oh— you’re up.”

Andrea nods and hands Margaret the list. “You should look at these. They’re sample questions for the assessment interview.”

Margaret looks over the list, closing her laptop. “These are a bit silly.” 

“I know.” Andrea smiles, giving a breath of a laugh.

“Favourite colour?” Margaret begins.

“Pine green.” 

“Hobbies and interests? — I can guess. Reading? Writing?”

Andrea smiles, amused. “Yeah. I also do crossfit.” 

“That’s a hobby?” 

Andrea shrugs.

“What… what colour are you eyes?” Margaret looks at Andrea who leans in against the arm rest to allow Margaret to take a look. 

Margaret looks, first observing, but then getting caught up in an intense eye contact with her. Andrea makes her own observations, and her gaze flickers briefly to Margaret’s lips before she raises a brow and leans back in her seat. 

“Brown. A rich, reddish brown.” Margaret says, clearing her throat. 

“And yours are also brown.” Andrea says matter-of-factly. “With undertones of green and grey.” 

Margaret is about to move on to another question, when the plane suddenly begins to rattle. She slams her hands down on the armrests in alarm, and the SEAT BELT light dings on over head. Margaret stiffly makes sure hers is fastened. 

The pilot’s voice comes over the PA System. “Passengers, we are experiencing some mild turbulence, we ask you to return to your seat, and fasten your seat belts for the duration. Once it passes the Seat Belt light with go out and you may resume movement around the cabin.”

Andrea leans over Margaret and pries the window cover up. Margaret shuts her eyes and looks the other way. Outside, a safe distance away, is a dark thunderstorm, flickering with lightning. It is a magnificent sight from this altitude. 

“Wow.” Andrea breathes. 

The cabin rattles again as another bout of turbulence hits. Margaret grabs Andrea’s arm, nervous to look out the window. Andrea sits back in her seat, patting Margaret’s hand absently, but keeps looking out the window.

Margaret chances a glance outside and swallows thickly, but watches the far away storm to distract herself. 

When another bout of turbulence hits Margaret squeezes Andrea’s arm for purchase, however she looks surprised, and as the turbulence calms, she tentatively squeezes Andrea’s arm again. 

“Crossfit, you said?” Margaret asks, glancing down at Andrea’s arm that she’s still holding onto.

“Yep.” Andrea says smugly. 

“Jee — zus.” Margaret whispers, sounding pained and impressed.

\--

Margaret nurses a coffee in the Seattle airport, wearing the same clothes as she had during their first flight. She is thumbing through her phone idly, Andrea’s and her own carry-on luggage sit beside her. 

Andrea returns to their table, she’s wearing jeans now and thick socks with laced up boots. She wears a honey brown corduroy jacket lined with some kind of softer knit over a dark grey crew neck sweatshirt. 

“You changed?” Margaret asks. 

“It’s like, fifty degrees in Sitka right now, and probably won’t get warmer than sixty.” Andrea says lightly. “Do you have anything warmer to change into, you might be cold.” 

Margaret considers her carry on. “I have something—” she stands, but at that moment their flight is called. 

“I’ll just give you my other coat when we land.” Andrea says, collecting her carry-on and bag. 

\--

The plane to Sitka is far from the luxury of the first plane. Many of the seats are empty, and there are only two rows of two, with the seats quite cramped. It’s also louder than the previous flight, and a little more rickety. 

Andrea takes the window seat this time, looking fondly out the window for their two hour flight at the familiar landscape below them. 

\--

As the plane makes its landing, a group of people can be seen waiting behind a gate at the Sitka airport. Grandma Annie stands beside her daughter Grace, waving a large cardboard hand-painted sign that says “WELCOME BACK ANDY!” with hearts and confettis on it. Grace holds a smaller cardboard sign with “and MARGARET!” painted on it, her enthusiasm is much more sober.

It is a small airport, so small that the passengers would collect their own luggage and leave directly from the tarmac. The door opens and passengers begin pooling out, many waiting by the side of the plane, others rushing over to greet family. 

Finally Andrea appears in the doorway with her carry-on and bag in her arms. She grins and waves to her family, making her way down the stairs, turning around to say something to Margaret who has appeared behind her. Margaret nods, and once Andrea makes it to the tarmac she puts her luggages aside and jogs over to her family. 

Margaret waits by the side of the plane, looking visibly chilled next to her and Andrea’s luggage.

“There’s my girl!” Annie cries happily, opening her arms.

“Gammy!” Andrea exclaims, slowing down to hug her grandmother, and then her mother. Grace holds Andrea tightly, and she gives her mom a kiss on the cheek before pulling away. 

“Is that her?” Annie asks excitedly. 

Andrea smiles, nodding. “Yes. Let me go help her with the bags.” She gives a little wave and walks back over to the plane where they are still unloading luggage, making her way to Margaret’s side. 

Margaret is kneeling over Andrea’s carry on, pulling out the light grey coat she’d been wearing earlier. When Andrea approaches she helps Margaret tie the belt of the coat.

“Paxton— _the_ Andrea Paxton?” A young man in an orange and yellow reflective vest calls delightedly. Andrea turns, smiling. 

“Chuck? Oh my gosh look at you!” She goes over to him and gives him a hug, Margaret smiles at the exchange, it’s a small city. 

Chuck gives Andrea her bag, and she points to Margaret’s white suitcase just out of reach. 

“So you’re here for Annie’s 90th? It’s so nice to see you, it’s been so long!” Chuck talks as he drags Margaret’s bag out of the plane and sets it out on its wheels. Andrea takes it. 

“Are you coming to the party?” Andrea asks, taking a step back toward Margaret.

Chuck gives a wave. “I’m working again. But I’ll be at the cocktail tonight.” 

“What?” Andrea asks, confused. Chuck looks suddenly guilty and covers his mouth with a gloved hand. 

“Oh man, I probably wasn’t supposed to say anything. Your folks invited a bunch of people to the house for a welcome back party for you.” 

Andrea sighs and gives a defeated laugh. “Never could keep a secret, Chuck.” She points at him affectionately. “I’ll see you around.” 

Andrea brings the two suitcases over to Margaret and helps her slip her carry on over the handle for easier transport. “Popular aren’t you?” Margaret quips, and Andrea makes a face at her. 

“Come on, we’ve still gotta get to the house.” She puts a guiding hand on Margaret’s back as they walk back over to Annie and Grace, who are smiling ear to ear. 

“There’s our girl.” Grace says sweetly, offering Margaret a quick hug. 

“Andy got herself an _older woman_.” Annie says saucily. 

“Gammy.” Andrea pleads, but Annie elbows her in the stomach and holds out her hands to Margaret to takes them, a genuine, if not nervous smile on her face. 

“Aren’t you something else.” Annie says, reaching up to pat Margaret’s cheek. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Margaret gets out, she sounds cold. 

Grace lets out a little cry of realization. “Oh dear, you must be freezing! Come on everyone let’s get a move on!” She takes Margaret’s luggage from her and zips off ahead of them toward the parking lot.

Once the tarmac ends the ground is replaced with gravel. While Annie seems entirely nimble, a few steps ahead of Andrea, Margaret finds her footing a little wobbly. 

“Here.” Andrea holds out an arm, and Margaret takes it, silently grateful for the help. They make it to the car without any problems and Grace packs their luggage into the trunk. 

\--

Margaret gazes out the window at the cozy town, oblivious to the conversation going on between the three Paxton’s. They laugh in the background, as it occurs to Margaret that almost every business along the main road has the name PAXTON on it. Her attention is drawn back to the present when the car comes to a halt. 

They’ve stopped at the pier. 

Grace and Annie are quick to get out of the car, already unloading the luggage and heading down the sloped dock to a waiting yacht. A small yacht. But a yacht none the less.

Margaret and Andrea get out of the car as well, Andrea grabs her own luggage and starts following Grace and Annie down the dock. 

“Why is there a boat?” Margaret asks, more nervous than Andrea could have expected.

Andrea gives her a concerned look, but motions to an island a little ways off.

“The house is on that island.”

When Margaret doesn’t make any movement toward the dock, Andrea gives her a pleading look. 

“What?” 

Margaret looks embarrassed. “I can’t swim.”

“It’s a yacht.” Andrea says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, she holds out a hand coaxing Margaret over. “Come on. There’s a life vest on board if that’ll make you more comfortable.” 

Margaret steps tentatively over to Andrea, and takes her arm again. They go down the sloped dock. Near the bottom Margaret’s heeled boot slips on the slick wood and she almost falls, the only thing keeping her up is Andrea, who hauls her back to her feet and holds her a little more carefully until they’re on a flat surface again. 

\--

Margaret sits with an orange life vest on as the yacht glides quickly over the water toward the island. Despite her white-knuckle grip on the railing she almost looks like she’s enjoying the view.

Andrea sits down next to her, leaning back to breathe in the Alaskan air. It’s cold and rich and fresh and Andrea drinks it in like she’d been dying without it. 

“You never mentioned you were rich.” Margaret says quietly, just for the two of them. 

“I’m not rich, my family is.” Andrea replies cooly. 

“That sounds like something rich people would say.” Margaret argues, but not with any measure of accusation. 

Andrea sits up and looks at Margaret earnestly. 

“I left them and their money and came to New York on my own dime, with money I earned through hard work. The only thing I’ve used their money for since then are these rings.” She takes Margaret’s left hand with her own left hand, for emphasis. 

“Why?” 

“Cause it would piss my dad off.” Andrea shrugs, smiling smugly. 

\--

Andrea unloads her luggage from the yacht onto the dock of the Paxton estate. Margaret stands a few feet away, gazing at the house and property in disbelief. She starts up the thankfully flat dock ahead of Andrea, though more careful now with her footing. 

Andrea scans the property and frowns. Chuck had let it slip but it was still overwhelming to see so many people around. 

“Mom, what’s all this?” She motions with one hand, at the throng of people out on the grass and the sound of chatter inside the large, 15 room mansion. 

“Just a little welcoming party!” Grace replies with a sing-song voice. 

“Our Andy hasn’t been here in five years! Everyone was so excited to see her!” Annie adds waving for them to hurry up. 

Geoffrey, Andrea’s father waits at the top of the dock, and gives his wife a quick kiss and Annie an affectionate pat on the shoulder as they pass.

“Hey Andy, welcome home.”

“Hey dad.” Andrea hugs him, but it is a little stiff. 

“Been a while.” Geoffrey says, it’s calm with a hidden accusation. 

“Coulda made it to the airport for the occasion.” Andrea replies impatiently. 

“Geoffrey!” Annie shouts from the front door. “Take her bags! Grace and I want to get Andy and Margaret settled in.” 

Begrudgingly, Geoffrey takes Andrea’s suitcase. She looks back at Margaret and gives her a reassuring smile. “Don’t be shy, hon.” She beckons her over. Margaret smiles as she steps up beside Andrea, accepting her arm around her waist. 

“Nice to meet you Mister Paxton.” She says, but neither of them make a move to hug or even shake hands. Margaret hugs herself, the cardigan and Andrea’s coat aren’t keeping out the chill.

“It’s quite middling to meet you too, Maggie, right?” He says, he knows she doesn’t like nicknames.

“Just Margaret.” She replies with light reproach. 

“I can’t say I expected Andy to shack up with the woman who’s held her hostage for the last three years.” 

“Dad— Jesus Christ!” Andrea hisses, beginning to walk away. “You say that and think she’s the reason I never visit.” She turns her back to him, guiding Margaret up the stone walkway. 

“Watch your step.” She says softly, she looks back at her dad. 

“I’ll see you inside, dad.” 

\--

Grace and Annie open the door to a large bedroom, rather, a suite, with a fireplace and bathroom, and a large balcony overlooking the property and water. 

Margaret is impressed. “This is beautiful.” 

“We thought you’d like the view.” Grace says affectionately, rubbing Andrea’s shoulder. 

“I do, thanks mom.” 

Annie shuffles over the bed and pats a pillow. “Now, we’re under no illusions that you two don’t share a bed, so we also made sure the room had a nice big one.” 

Margaret goes a little red in the cheeks. “Oh— that’s really sweet of you.” She tucks her left hand into the large pocket of Andrea’s coat pocket, suddenly self-conscious of the ring on her finger. It has only occurred to her now that they had not taken off the rings. But the Paxtons don’t seem to have taken notice. 

Geoffrey knocks at the door and slides the suitcases into the room. “Party is going to get started in about forty minutes.” He says, much more pleasant than before, and disappears as quickly as he’d come.

“We’ll let you get settled, see you downstairs.” Annie says, and she and Grace make their way out. Margaret grabs her suitcase and rolls it over to the bed, lifting it with a slight groan before beginning to unzip it.

“Hey mom,” Andrea says, and Grace lingers. “Could you maybe put the fear of God in dad so he doesn’t repeat his poor first impression with Margaret.”

Margaret looks disappointed. “I’m sorry dear. I told him to be on his best behaviour.” 

“I know, it’s not your fault.” Andrea gives her another hug. “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.”

Grace closes the door behind her, and Andrea and Margaret are left alone. 

“I’m sorry about my dad.” She says, grabbing her suitcase and rolling it over to the bed as well.

“It’s alright.” Margaret says, looking over the clothes she brought. 

“It isn’t.” Andrea argues, but it isn’t directed at Margaret. “For all he knows, this is real, and he’s being so disrespectful— really shows how much worth he puts in my work and my relationships.” 

Andrea sighs and pulls some clothes out of her suitcase. Margaret watches her for a private moment. 

“Should we take off the rings— until you want to tell them?” Margaret asks. Andrea pauses, she had forgotten about the rings, she makes a face.

“Do you think they noticed?” She whispers in a conspiratorial tone. Margaret shrugs. Andrea thinks for a moment. “Yeah, give me yours I’ll hold onto it for now.” 

Margaret rounds the bed and holds out her hand, letting Andrea wiggle the ring off her finger. She watches Andrea do the same with her own, and leaves them on the bedside table before picking up her clothes. 

“I’m gonna get cleaned up quick and go see if my mom needs help with anything.” Andrea says, already slipping over to the washroom. “Won’t be long.” 

\--

Andrea carries two bottles of wine to the bar on the main floor where the party has already began. People are mingling and talking, but things haven’t gotten full swing just yet.

She’d put on a pair of slim fit trousers with a subtle checked pattern, as well as a sleeveless blouse patterned with large blush hued flowers. She’d put her hair up and switched her studs for some soft red drop earrings. 

She rubs at her left hand while she walks around the space. This was her childhood home and it feels both familiar and foreign to her. Andrea spots her father in his office and they make eye contact, but she walks away from him, toward the main room where most of the guests are. 

Andrea catches sight of Margaret coming down the stairs and pauses, watching her look around the space until she finds Andrea. The relieved smile on her face is enough to have Andrea grinning. 

“You look great.” Andrea says when Margaret approaches, admiring the deep red knee length long sleeved dress that Margaret had chosen, and paired with some simple black heels. 

“Thanks.” She looks around, rubbing at her left hand and looking uncharacteristically unsure. “Am I supposed to introduce myself to people as your _girlfriend_?” She whispers, and Andrea laughs lightly. 

“Yeah, you can say we work together too.” 

Annie finds them and takes Margaret by the arm. “Won’t you come around and make some introductions dear?” Annie carts her off before she can protest, and Annie looks over her shoulder and winks at Andrea. 

\--

With Margaret at her side, Annie makes the rounds with her, making introductions. After a few handshakes and small talk Margaret is able to slip back into her comfortable business woman self, and make charged conversation with Paxton extended family and Sitka residents. 

A small husky puppy runs up and nestles her leg as she’s speaking with another woman, taking her by surprise. 

“Oh!” She steps away and the puppy jumps up, paws against her leg, playfully.

“Samwise, no!” Grace says, “Sit!” The puppy sits.

Margaret grins. “Is that a Tolkien reference?” 

Grace laughs. “Yes, one of the local sled dogs had puppies, and they all got out one night. Terrible scare, we were worried they would drown or get carried off by eagles.”

Margaret’s expression is horrified. 

“But we found them all. Samwise is the runt of the litter and we found him in the garden uprooting half the plants— we decided to take him in, give us an excuse to enjoy the outdoors more.”

Margaret nods in agreement. “That’s a great idea, it’s beautiful here.” 

Grace gives her a warm smile. “Just don’t let him out without a leash, or the eagles might get him.”

“Duly noted.”

\--

Andrea and Margaret have found each other again, chatting with some guests. Despite the pretense of their relationship, they appear quite comfortable beside each other and are in their element answering questions about their work at the publishing house. 

“Being a book editor sounds like fun, I bet you’ve met some celebrities.” A woman, Elise, holding a glass of wine, gushes lightly.

Margaret laughs. “A few.” She sees Geoffrey join their small circle of conversation and steps closer to Andrea to make more room.

“No wonder you like being editors so much.” Elise says to both of them. 

“Oh but Andy isn’t an editor, she’s the editorial assistant— Maggie here is the editor.” Geoffrey says pointedly. 

“Editor in Chief.” Andrea corrects. “ _Margaret_ got a promotion at the beginning of the year.” 

“So Margaret is your boss?” Elise’s husband asks.

“Andrea and I have worked together for almost four years.” Margaret interjects. “And she is up for a promotion soon as well.” Margaret says, a touch of defensiveness in her tone. “I’m confident she’ll be able to boast an Editor’s position within a month or two.”

“Shall we get a refill?” Elise asks cheerfully, and her husband agrees. “Would you like something dear?” She asks Margaret. 

“Yes, sure.” She turns to Andrea. “I’ll be right back, want anything?” 

Andrea shakes her head. “No thanks.”

Once Margaret is out of earshot, Andrea turns to her father with a stern look on her face. 

“Do you enjoy trying to undermine my work _and_ my relationship?” She asks in an angry whisper. 

“You’re really something else, Andrea.” Geoffrey scoffs. “You call and say you can’t make it, and then suddenly you’re bringing _her_ home with you? The woman who has been working you like a dog for the last three years.” 

“ _Like a dog_? Publishing is a competitive business and I am working towards _a career_ here, dad.” She is withholding and Geoffrey knows it. Andrea’s back is turned and she doesn’t see Margaret coming up behind her.

“Oh so this isn’t the same woman you’ve called your mother crying about because of her ridiculous demands?” He’s not wrong and he’s smug about it.

“The last time I called mom when I was _that_ stressed about work was over a year ago.” Now Andrea sees Margaret beside her and takes a deep breath, but she’s quite angry. “I’ll have you know that Margaret is one of the most respected editors in the industry and it has been a privilege to work so closely with her.”

Geoffrey shakes his head dismissively, not caring in the least that Margaret can hear every word he’s saying. “She’s just your meal ticket. You can do better, Andrea. I never thought you’d end up sleeping your way to the _middle_ just to spite me.” 

Andrea stands dumbstruck and flushed with anger. Her fists tight at her side. 

“Andrea, let’s go.” Margaret says carefully, touching Andrea’s arm. She gives Geoffrey a sharp look. 

“She is not my meal ticket! She is my **FIANCÉE** !” Andrea shouts. “You’d better believe if it wasn’t Gammy’s birthday I would be leaving right now. Because I will not stand around and listen to you insult either of us.”

The room is quiet, and Andrea is breathing heavily. Only the pressure of Margaret’s hand on her arm calms her, and Margaret walks her out of the house and onto the veranda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments are greatly appreciated!


	3. Getting Hands-On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant outfit references, [Pyjamas and ~~Bachelorette Party~~](https://78.media.tumblr.com/918d324c45bb73ef66a18916b30df6e6/tumblr_peg96n9qei1shc5aro3_r1_1280.png)

A low chatter can be heard from inside the house, and Grace can be seen berating Geoffrey in a secluded corner. Margaret absently rubs Andrea’s back while she leans against the railing with her head on her arms. 

“Let’s wear the rings again.” Margaret says after a moment. 

“They’re in my back pocket.” Andrea replied, without moving. 

Margaret blinks, glancing at the faint outline of a small pouch. Tentatively she slips her hand into Andrea’s back pocket and slips a little velvet bag out. She carefully takes out the rings, and slips her own back on. 

“Here.” She says, and Andrea finally moves from the railing, sitting down at the wide bench to their right. Margaret looks over her shoulder, spotting both of Andrea’s parents watching them. Impulsively she sits on Andrea’s lap. Andrea is surprised, attention completely drawn to Margaret, and she shifts to accommodate her, one hand idly poised at her hip. 

“Gimme your hand.” Margaret says, picking up Andrea’s left hand. It isn’t the same as at the pond. Now Margaret slides the ring on with purpose, looking up at Andrea when she’s done, completely caught up in the intensity of her expression. She drops her hand to Margaret’s leg, giving a gentle squeeze.

In that moment, they truly forget the pretense of this trip, feeling only the after effects of an emotional exchange. Margaret leans in.

Someone whistles. 

“Chuck!” Annie exclaims, elbowing Andrea’s friend in the ribs. She and a gaggle of guests have crowded around the large bay windows leading out to the veranda.

Margaret and Andrea pull apart, both suddenly embarrassed. Geoffrey is nowhere to be seen.

“You’ve gone and embarrassed them!” Annie says, a terrible sadness in her voice. 

Chuck laughs, and starts chanting. “Kiss kiss kiss kiss!”

A few other guests chime it, and Andrea looks at Margaret, it’s hard to stifle a smile now. 

“Please! Please!” Annie begs, and Margaret laughs self-consciously. 

Andrea gives Margaret’s leg a little squeeze, and she meets her gaze. A sure look.

Margaret leans in and kisses Andrea. A brief, timid kiss. 

There is a murmur of laughter from the guests. 

Andrea sits up a little straighter, making sure not to jostle Margaret. 

“We aren’t used to PDA—” Margaret tries to explain, but Andrea lifts her ring clad hand to the back of Margaret’s neck and pulls her to a show worthy kiss. 

It doesn’t quite surprise Margaret, but all the eyes on them has her tense. She feels Andrea brush her thumb over her neck and she sighs, parting her lips just a titch. But it’s enough for Andrea to deepen the kiss, and enough for Margaret to get a little lost in it. 

Chuck whistles again, but this time Annie elbows him in the ribs before he finishes. Andrea pulls away slowly dropping her hand into their shared lap. Margaret rubs her neck where Andrea’s hand had been and smiles embarrassedly at the crowd. 

“Leave them alone, you busy-bodies!” Grace scolds gently, though she’s beaming, and scatters the guests. She shuts the veranda doors leaving just the four of them now. 

“I’m sorry about what your dad said.” Grace sighs, leaning against the banister. Annie takes a seat on the bench beside Andrea. 

Margaret leans back and winds an arm around Andrea’s shoulder, while Andrea’s finds its way around Margaret’s waist. 

“You shouldn’t apologize for him.” Andrea says. “But I’m sorry for the shouting. I didn’t want to tell everyone like that...” 

“So you _are_ engaged?” Annie asks, and Andrea and Margaret laugh. 

“Yes.” Margaret says, and Andrea lifts her hand to show off her ring next to Margaret’s.

“Where did Geoffrey go?” Margaret asks. 

“He’s holed up in his office for a while.” Grace assures. “I think he just needs a while to get his head on straight.” 

Margaret nods thoughtfully. “I’d like to get off on a better foot before the end of the weekend.” She says. 

Annie laughs. “Oh honey, you haven’t done anything wrong! You’re a lovely woman, and I’m sure he’ll see that.” 

“I hope so.” Andrea agrees. 

\--

“Don’t look okay?” Margaret says, peeking from behind the washroom door.

Andrea sits on the sofa facing the fireplace, clad in a matching pants and long sleeve shirt pyjama set. She covers her her eyes with her hands, laughing. 

“Okay.” 

“Are you eyes closed?” Margaret can’t quite see. 

Andrea hums in acknowledgment. “Completely.” 

Margaret steps out of the washroom and darts over to the bed. Andrea looks over her shoulder, dissolving into laughter again. Margaret is wearing a tiny pair of shorts and matching satin tank top pyjama set, she’s all legs. 

“ _Those_ are the pyjamas you brought to _Alaska_?” Andrea asks, turning around and propping her chin on her hand, very much teasing Margaret. 

“Well, yes. I didn’t know I’d be sharing a room.” She replies, ducking under the covers. 

Margaret glances at the light streaming in from the glass door leading to the balcony. Andrea stands, grabbing a remote off the dresser as she crosses the room and sits on the other side of the bed. She point the remote at the ceiling and blackout curtains descend, coming all the way to the floor and leaving them in near-darkness. The only light source now is the fire. 

“How long have you had a tattoo?” Andrea asks as she gets under the covers as well. The bed is exceptionally large, enough room for a very large third person, at least.

“What?” She feigns ignorance.

“I can see the wing.” Andrea says, and Margaret tugs the sheet up under her armpits self-consciously. 

“Since I was fourteen.” 

“But you wanted to get rid of it?” Andrea asks. 

“How do you know that?” 

They both lie on their backs staring up at the ceiling, neither of them makes any move to get comfortable to sleep. 

“Well, shortly after I started working for you, you had a call come in from a dermatologist and he left a message about a Q-Switched Laser.” Andrea explains. “I googled what it as, and found that it removes tattoos.” There’s a pregnant silence between them where they hear the logs in the fireplace snap and crackle. “But you cancelled the appointment.” Andrea finally adds. 

“They’re swallows.” Margaret says. “I got them a month after my parents died. I had a tattooist friend who made an exception for me.”

“Why did you want them removed?” Andrea asks gently. 

Margaret sighs, it takes her a minute to reply. “Thirty four was a hard year.” She clears her throat. “That’s how old my mom was. When she died. So…”

Andrea reaches her hand out without looking at Margaret, and after another moment of silence between them Margaret takes her hand. Andrea runs her thumb over Margaret’s knuckles. 

“What made you change your mind?” 

“Lotta things.” Margaret says. “The recovery process, the repeated procedures… The likelihood of scarring… I hadn’t been with anyone for two years at that point, and I didn’t have time to date so I wasn’t getting asked about it, so I kept it.”

“Two years?” Andrea says, almost pained. 

“That’s what you got out of that?” Margaret says skeptically. “Well if _that_ hurt, it's been five now.”

Andrea smiles, but she doesn’t laugh. “That’s a long time.” 

“What about you then?” Margaret asks. 

“Me? Hm, like eight months.” 

“That’s long too.” Margaret says. 

“Not as long as five years.” Andrea replies pointedly. 

Margaret slips her hand from Andrea’s and wacks her shoulder. “Go to bed.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

They both turn onto their sides with their backs to each other. 

\--

By the time morning arrives the fire has gotten quite low. Half asleep and quite comfortable in the luxurious bed Margaret shivers, and rolls over, tugging the sheets and blankets higher up. She ends up curled up much closer to Andrea who remains fast asleep. 

Another shiver claims Margaret and she shifts ever closer to Andrea, ultimately ending up right against her back with her face nuzzled against Andrea’s neck. What makes Andrea stir, is when Margaret’s arm finds its way around her waist in her half-asleep attempt to seek warmth. 

Andrea gives a slight yawn, arching her back as she stretches, and wakens enough to process Margaret’s sleepy groan of protest and the cuddly way her arm tightens around her middle. She’s about to say something, but Margaret tries to get closer still. 

“Margaret…” Andrea says, patting her hand. 

“Mm?” 

“What’re you doing?” Andrea asks. 

“Cold…” is the response she gets. 

Andrea turns over, ignoring the moan of protest, and smiling smugly when Margaret immediately settles down as Andrea tugs her against her chest. She drapes an arm over Margaret’s middle, tugging the blankets up to her shoulders before dozing off for a while longer. 

\--

When Margaret really wakes up, she finds herself snuggled against Andrea’s chest. She doesn’t recall how she got into this position. 

“Andrea?” Margaret says nudging her. 

“Mhm?” Andrea replies, Margaret rolls onto her back, giving a squeak when she feels the cool air against her skin. 

“When did we start _cuddling_?” 

“You were cold…” Andrea says, moving her arm from around Margaret and running it over her face. 

“I’m _still_ cold.” 

“Want me to grab you a sweater? You can keep it under the blankets for a few minutes. Use our body heat to warm it up.” 

“Please.” 

Andrea, rolls over and sits up, finger combing her hair out of her face before she rises and pads over to the armoire near the bathroom. She opens it and pulls out a soft cream coloured cashmere hoodie from one of the shelves and tosses it over. 

“Stay put, I’ll be back.” She says, and slips into the washroom. 

Margaret slips the sweater under the covers and pulls them up a little higher, starkly aware of Andrea’s absence in the bed. Braving the cold for a moment, Margaret reaches out and grabs the glass of water on her side of the bed, taking a few mouthfuls. After she sets it down again, she finger combs her hair into something half-decent and settles back down. 

Andrea returns a few minutes later, looking more awake and joins Margaret in the bed once again. She reclines against the pillows, pulling the covers up over her legs. 

“How do you take your coffee?” Margaret asks, looking up at Andrea. 

“Same as you.” She replies, meeting Margaret’s gaze. 

Margaret shakes her head. “You said you were picky about how you brewed it.” 

“Oh.” She hadn’t realized Margaret had retained that tidbit. “The coffee itself doesn’t really matter… but I put if I’m just making enough for one mug… I add two teaspoons of cocoa and a teaspoon of cinnamon to the grounds… then brew it. And sweeten with honey.” 

Margaret doesn’t say anything for a moment. “That sounds good.” She says, and shivers again. 

Andrea gives her a sympathetic look. “Are you still cold?” She asks, and Margaret gives an embarrassed smile. 

“I am not made for this weather, even if your house is heated.” 

Andrea leans over and rubs her hand over Margaret’s arm and back trying to generate some warmth for her. 

“I was warmer when you were in here.” Margaret says with a pout, and Andrea laughs, but her expression immediately sobers when she sees the intense gaze on Margaret’s face. 

Margaret reaches out, winding her arm around Andrea’s waist to tug her closer. 

“Margaret.” Andrea says quietly and like a warning, but Margaret gives her a disapproving hum. 

“Warm me up please.” She murmurs, and Andrea is unable to deny her. 

Andrea props herself up on her elbow, leaning over Margaret and kisses her. The hand she had been using to create a little frictional warmth, her fingers now press into the skin of Margaret’s back. Margaret shifts to allow Andrea as close to her as possible, giving a slight hum as Andrea practically lays over her, a blanket of strength and warmth. 

Andrea’s hand travels over Margaret’s back, lower until she finds the curve of her hip and ass. It’s an invitation for Margaret to hook her leg over Andrea’s hip, and she does, bringing her closer still against Andrea, her own hands now beginning a tentative exploration.

Margaret slips her cold hands up the front of Andrea’s shirt, making her abs tighten and a gasp leave her lips. “Christ.” Andrea breathes, but Margaret pulls her back in for another kiss. “I told you I’m cold.” She mutters, and Andrea merely hums in agreement, bringing a hand to Margaret’s ass and giving a squeeze. 

Tactilely Margaret gets ensconced in the feeling of Andrea’s toned abdomen, she lets one hand travel to Andrea’s back and becomes just as impressed with the musculature she finds there. Andrea lips her hand from Margaret’s ass to her tummy, ghosting over her skin and coaxing a moan from her lips. 

She dips her hand lower, pressing her palm between Margaret’s legs over the satin of her pajama shorts. Margaret lifts her hips to meet Andrea’s touch, their kissing growing more intense, especially when Andrea moves her hand, knowing exactly where to press to earn herself a needy moan. 

Andrea finds herself smiling against Margaret’s lips, a contented sound leaving her throat when Margaret digs her fingers her against her back, eating up the wonderful reactions she’s getting from Margaret. It almost surprises her when Margaret grips her wrist, and starts guiding her hand away and to the waistband of her tiny pyjama shorts. 

Someone knocks on the door. 

“You whoooooo!” Chimes Annie from behind the bedroom door. “We brought breakfast in bed, for you sleepy-heads!” 

Andrea and Margaret remain frozen in their embrace, and Andrea starts shaking with silent laughter. She brings her hand up to cradle Margaret’s face and kisses her soundly once more, before slipping away. 

“Just a minute.” Andrea calls, while Margaret rolls over dejectedly and groans into her pillow. Andrea grabs a long knit cardigan that she had set aside the night before and slips it on, looking over at Margaret as she sits up and retrieves the cashmere hoodie from beneath the covers and pulls it on. 

Andrea answers the door, and Grace and Annie, and even Geoffrey are standing behind it. Grace is holding a large wooden tray of breakfast food. 

“Morning,” Andrea greets, stepping away from the door, and padding back to the bed. 

“Morning Margaret, dear.” Annie chirps and Margaret smiles at the tiny old woman. 

“Morning Gammy.” She replies, an unexpected tone of affection in her croaky morning voice. 

Grace deposits the breakfast food over the duvet and presents it to the couple with a smile. 

“Don’t worry about finishing it all, we didn’t know what you liked.” She says. 

“As long as there isn’t anything pine-related in there it’s wonderful.” Andrea says thankfully. 

“Pine related?” Geoffrey asks.

“Mags’ allergic to pine nuts.” Is Andrea’s reply as she picks up a cup of juice. 

“There shouldn’t be anything like that, dear.” Says Annie, noticing the sweater that Margaret is wearing. She turns toward the fire. “Oh heavens! Andy why didn’t you stoke the fire, Margaret must be freezing!” 

Annie ushers Geoffrey over to to the fireplace to add a new log. 

“We were very comfortable. Barely noticed.” Margaret says assuredly, picking up a mug of tea black tea and taking a sip. 

Grace turns to Andrea and Margaret, clasping her hands together, she seems eager to say something but unsure of how to bring it up. 

“What’s up mom?” Andrea asks, clocking her mother’s expression. 

“Well…” Grace hesitates. “First, your father would like to apologize.” 

Andrea makes a face, but she isn’t angry. “First thing in the morning?” 

Geoffrey returns to stand next to Grace. “Yes. I was unfair to you, and I shouldn’t have said those things. I don’t understand your drives, but I am trying to accept and respect them, and I’ll do my best to keep any angry thoughts to myself from now on. So I’m sorry— to both of you— for what I said yesterday.” 

Andrea looks at her dad, something of a sad expression on her face. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you.” Margaret mirrors, looking at Andrea affectionately. 

Annie comes to stand at the food of the bed. 

“So now that my son-in-law is past putting his foot in his mouth—”

“Gammy.” Grace says pleadingly, but Annie doesn’t pay her any heed. 

She continues. “We have something we’d like to ask you.” 

Andrea and Margaret exchange glances. 

“Okay.” Andrea says, a little unsure. 

Grace steps closer. “We’d like to host your wedding. This weekend.”

“ _What_?” They say in unison. 

“You are so busy with work.”

“It’s been so long since you’ve visited.”

“Everyone is already here.”

Margaret and Andrea gape and her family. 

“But what about your birthday celebration?” Margaret squeaks.

Annie lets out a hearty laugh. “I’ve had 89 birthdays, honey! I don’t need another one.” 

Andrea and Margaret exchange glances again. 

“Margaret,” Annie implores, coming around to sit at the edge of the bed. She takes Margaret’s hands in hers and looks her in the eye. “I know it’s last minute but it would be a dream come true to see my only grandchild’s wedding.” She says, and Margaret looks like she could cry. 

Margaret gapes at her. “I… I don’t have a dress…” 

“We have an amazing team of seamstresses in Sikta, we can dress you both no problem.” Grace assures.

“Before I’m dead.” Annie adds, teasing. 

“Okay?” Margaret gets out.

“You’ll do it?” Grace asks eagerly. 

“Don’t I get a say?” Andrea asks, just as distressed as Margaret. 

“Oh honey, won’t you please?” Annie pleads. 

Margaret looks at Andrea desperately, Andrea makes a face. 

“Alright.” She bites out. 

“Wonderful!” Annie cheers, getting up and returning to Grace’s side. 

“We’ll leave you two alone now, enjoy your food— don’t you worry about anything we’ll take care of everything.” They clear out, waving and smiling, and finally they shut the door and Margaret and Andrea are left alone. 

Neither of them speaks for a long moment. 

“I need to take a run.” Margaret says urgently. 

\--

Margaret reaches the bottom of the stairs in leggings and sneakers, a polar fleece sweatshirt and a tuque. As she starts adjusting her wireless headphones, she sees Samwise sitting by the door with his leash in his mouth. 

Grace appears in the doorway, seeing Margaret. “Getting some air?” She asks. 

Margaret does not want to see Grace right now, but she nods. “Can I take Samwise?” 

“Oh sure. Just don’t let him off the leash okay?” 

“Sure.” 

Margaret kneels down and gets the harness on Samwise who seems elated to be going outside. She straps the leash around her waist before clipping it to the harness. 

\--

Margaret runs along the dirt path with Samwise galloping along right beside her. She is breathing hard and taking in the trees, slowing her pace as she reaches the top of a hill. 

Margaret walks the rest of the way, spotting a lookout. It’s a wooden structure with a banister and two telescopes on them. She leans her arms on the banister and leans her head on her arms, her breath comes out in a cloud. 

Samwise barks beside her and she feels him tug on the leash. 

“Sit, Samwise.” She instructs, and the tugging stops. Margaret looks up at the view, spotting some birds flying above in slow confident circles. It occurs to Margaret that the birds must be the eagles Grace had mentioned. She watches them for a while, until she realizes that they are getting closer. 

Samwise whines and Margaret looks up, startled to see a bird right above her. She pulls away from the banister and starts back toward the path, keeping an eye on the sky. Margaret sets a jogging pace, urging Samwise to keep up. 

Above her an eagle cries, and Margaret looks up in alarm. A bird swoops down and digs its talons into Samwise’ back and lifts his little puppy self off the ground. The leash is pulled suddenly taut and causes Margaret to lose her balance, landing hard on the dirt path. The Eagle drops the husky puppy and flies away with an angry call. 

Samwise lands a few feet away from Margaret with a pitiful puppy shriek. But he gets up and scurries over to Margaret cowering against her. 

She drags herself up and picks up the heavy puppy and starts back to the house. 

\--

Andrea brings the tray of food down to the kitchen, she has eaten some of it, but since Margaret sped off so suddenly there is still plenty of food on it. She leaves it on the counter. She is dressed now, in something similar to what she’d worn the day before, now grey trousers and her lace up boots, with a white knit sweater under her corduroy jacket. 

Andrea leaves the house and starts up the dirt path, getting a decent ways up before she spots Margaret making her return. Andrea keeps walking toward her, not thinking anything until she notices that Margaret is holding Samwise in her arms and half of her is covered in mud. 

“Margaret?!” Andrea says, and jogs over to her a look of utter concern on her face. “What happened?”

“He’s bleeding.” Margaret says, holding up the squirmy, whimpering puppy. “Your mom was right about the eagles.” She looks halfway to tears. 

“An eagle?!” Andrea asks, taking the puppy from Margaret. He’s still attached to the leash, Andrea unclips it and lets Margaret take it off and then takes it from her. “Are you alright?” 

“I just fell, I’m fine.” 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” She carries Samwise carefully, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

\--

“Mom!” Andrea calls, and Grace pops her head out of a back room, her smile immediately disappearing when she sees Margaret’s muddy state and Samwise in Andrea’s arms. Margaret had toed off her shoes on the veranda to keep the mud out of the house.

“Did an eagle get him?” She exclaims, and Margaret nods. Grace takes the puppy from Andrea.

“You go ahead and get cleaned up, honey. We’re gonna go to town this afternoon, if you’re up for it.” 

Margaret smiles. “I’m fine, just a bit of a scare. Is Samwise okay?”

He’s already licking at Grace’s face, and she nods. “Yes I think he’s fine, we’ll have someone in town take a look.” 

\--

A few minutes later Andrea finds herself knocking on the washroom door of their bedroom. Margaret opens it for her and returns to the mirror. She’s wearing a robe. Andrea leans against the door frame, watching Margaret comb her hair. 

“Are you feeling better?” She asks, not about the eagle incident. 

“I didn’t actually think eagles would try to take your parents’ dog.”

“I mean about earlier.” 

Margaret closes her eyes, she’s not entirely sure her run was as cathartic as she needed it to be. “Just means we don’t need to book a Justice of the Peace when we get back.” She says, shifting her weight. Andrea notices a decent smattering of bruises on her leg from where she fell.

“Mom asked that you wear something that looks nice with white.” Andrea says, and Margaret looks at her with a raised brow. “I don’t know what they’re planning.” Andrea says holding up her hands. 

Satisfied with her hair, Margaret puts her comb down, and tries to slip past Andrea, who stops her before she can pass the threshold.

“We can tell them no.” Andrea says softly, her hand at Margaret’s waist. 

“They want to do this for you.” Margaret argues. “For us. I don’t want to disappoint Annie just because of our…” She doesn’t finish, letting Andrea kiss her sweetly, one hand cradling the side of her head. 

Margaret pulls away with a sigh. “Don’t touch me. Unless you’re sure we’re not going to get interrupted.” 

\--

The bar is full of women, and Andrea and Margaret are decked out in gaudy veil headbands. Margaret had found a soft blue blouse to wear with black pants, and Andrea had changed into cream track pants and a matching jacket with an olive green shirt underneath. 

As soon as Andrea had figured out what her mother and grandma had planned she could barely contain her laughter, and was blushing deeply before the “show” even began. No matter how much Margaret nagged her to spill, Andrea kept her lips sealed. Drinks were poured and fruit and cake and other treats were served. The brides-to-be were made comfortably buzzed before the lights dimmed and the show began. 

On stage a man in high waisted fishnet tights and a black pair of frilly underwear arrives. The crowd is silent until the music comes on, and when it does all the women begin to cheer. 

“That’s Ramone.” Andrea leans in, explaining to Margaret over the blaring music. “He’s the only local ‘exotic dancer’.” 

He’s a man perhaps in his thirties, hints of abdominal muscles on his well oiled and hairless torso, but strong arms, and impeccable dance moves.

Margaret finds that she feels truly at ease, as the show goes on, unwinding from the alcohol and the natural high of laughter and cheer, and of Andrea’s arm draped over the back of her chair. 

If the opening show didn’t have them in stitches already, when Ramone holds his hands out to Andrea and Margaret the whole bar chants for them to go on stage. Two stage-hands place streamer wrapped folding chairs side by side in the spotlight. Andrea takes Margaret’s hand when Ramone returns to the stage, some new music plays. 

“Don’t be shy ladies— tip well and enjoy!” An unseen MC is heard over the loudspeakers. 

All of a sudden, Andrea and Margaret are getting a lap dance from Ramone and neither can contain their laughter. He smells like coconut oil and chocolate and Margaret thinks, that for a man living in a small town, he sure can move his hips. 

At some point paper money starts flying onto the stage, and the bar full of women are cheering anew. Ramone backs it up in front of Margaret, and she clings to Andrea’s hand despite her amusement. 

“Smack his ass!” She hears someone shout, and in a moment of impulsiveness, does just that, and the crowd of women absolutely love it. 

The song ends and Margaret and Andrea stand up, with Ramone between them, and bow. But as soon as their feet hit the floor, Andrea is tugging Margaret towards the outdoor dining area for some air. 

\--

Geoffrey is in his office trying on some suit jackets that he clearly hasn’t worn in a long time. He has a tie adjusted on his neck and stands before a full length mirror. The phone on his desk rings and he steps over and picks up the receiver. 

“Geoffrey Paxton speaking.” He answers, and listens to the person on the other line. 

“Gilbertson was it? Yes I have a few minutes…”

\--

Still tipsy from laughter and drinks, the two women take a few moments to breathe in the fresh, chill air outside. It’s still light out, but it’s getting closer to dinner. Margaret can’t say she’s hungry, but she is feeling untethered, and silly, and a little touch-starved.

As Andrea leans on her elbows against the banister with her head back and her makeshift veil blowing in the breeze, she is surprised when Margaret winds her arms around her shoulders and kisses her emphatically, almost to the point of her losing her balance. 

“Are we drunk?” Andrea asks, hands circling Margaret’s waist as she cants her head to kiss her deeply. 

“Absolutely.” Margaret replies, slipping her fingers into Andrea’s hair, bumping the veil headband and making it drift over them. 

Andrea draws Margaret tightly against her, leaning her forehead against Margaret’s to catch her breath. Her head is spinning, and she leans heavily against the banister of the deck. 

“Mags.” Andrea whispers, Margaret looks at her with an amused smile. 

“Who?” Margaret teases, and Andrea laughs softly. 

“Margaret.” Andrea corrects herself, but Margaret breathes a laugh and leans up and kisses her briefly. “I kinda like ‘Mags’ when you say it.” 

Andrea nuzzles her nose against Margaret’s, an intoxicated display of affection. She closes her eyes and feels Margaret return the gesture. They’re quiet for a moment, until a gust of wind blows by and she feels Margaret shiver.

“Is this still fake?” She finally asks, as if she’s afraid to hear the answer. “‘Cause I’m feeling a lot of things…” 

“Real things.” Margaret says, slipping her hand down to Andrea’s neck. 

“Real things.” Andrea repeats, nodding. 

“I want you for real.” Margaret murmurs, leaning in to kiss Andrea again. 

Andrea waltzes them to a nearby chair, sinking down into it and taking Margaret onto her lap. Margaret kisses her deeply and slowly, cupping Andrea’s face between her hands.

“Marry me for real.” Margaret says, and Andrea takes in a sharp breath. “Fuck the pretense.”

“Two days ago...” Andrea replies, reaching up to pull Margaret’s veil headband off and deposit it on the table beside them. She looks nervous. Margaret strokes her cheek. 

“Things change.” Margaret says, and Andrea gives her a skeptical look. 

“Things change?” 

“Things change.” Margaret says firmly. 

Andrea looks at her with a deep and searching gaze. “That fast?” 

Margaret nods. “Yeah.” She says quietly, and is relieved to see Andrea smile again. “Two days ago I don’t recall wanting to lick your abs.” 

This makes Andrea laugh, a fully belly laugh. 

She wraps her arms around Margaret and buries her face in her neck, taking a deep breath as her laughter calms. “You’re not the first woman to tell me that.” Andrea murmurs, ghosting her lips over Margaret’s neck. 

“First to follow through?” Margaret asks, and Andrea chuckles, looking up at her.

“We’ll see about that later.”

Margaret kisses her again, almost getting lost in it before she thinks of something else. “I got distracted—” she says, leaning away. “I had a whole spiel about your work ethic, and dedication, and talent…” 

Andrea tugs her down into a kiss again. “We’re drunk.” She says.

“Just a little.” 

“People have gotten married much drunker and after knowing each other for much less time.” Andrea says matter-of-factly. “We’ve known each other for three years and seven months.”

“Not _that_ weird to get hitched.”

“Not weird.”

Andrea pulls Margaret closer, and smiles when she leans her forehead against hers. “I’ll marry you for real.” She says softly, and Margaret grins. 

“Thought so.” Margaret says smugly, laughing as she kisses Andrea again.

The door opens and Grace peaks her head out. “Hey love birds, the show is over!” 

“Oh!” Margaret sits up, a little red-cheeked. “We needed some air.” 

“Some alone time.” Andrea adds smoothly. 

“Don’t worry about that, the ladies had a great time.” Grace smiles. “We’re heading back now, Gammy and the seamstresses are so excited to get you fitted for tomorrow.” 

“I bet she is.” Andrea agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying! Comments are greatly appreciated.


	4. And Something Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing specific to reference this time! Enjoy!

Grandma Annie stands a few feet away from a fold out change screen where two young women are helping Margaret into a dress. 

“Come on girls, hurry it up!” Annie says, eager and impatient. 

“We got it!” Margaret replies and the girls slip out from behind the screen, holding back smiles. 

Margaret comes out, looking shy but happy. Annie beams when she sees her in the dress and clasps her hands together delightedly. 

“Oh darling you’re going to look magnificent tomorrow.” Annie exclaims, ushering her over to a large full length mirror. 

It is a beautiful gown, with long sleeves and a low V neck, and beautiful embroidery all around the neck, sleeves, waist, and skirt. It is also incredibly smooth to the touch, and Margaret finds herself running her hands over the fabric as she gazes at her reflection. 

“Don’t you worry about the fit.” Annie says, waving to one of the seamstresses who comes over with tailor’s chalk pens, pins and clips. “Might be a bit loose in a few places, but that’s nothing we can’t fix.” 

Annie goes about pinning and marking the gown, and telling the girls where to pin as well, and Margaret is the perfect client. Annie comes around to see what adjustments need doing in the front and laughs lightly as she begins working on the fabric. 

“I was a bit chesty to begin with when I wore this.” Annie says, a fond smile on her face. “But I also happened to be knocked up.” She winks at Margaret, who grins back at her. 

“Now let’s see if I can find your boobs.” Annie quips and Margaret laughs. 

“They’re in there somewhere.” She replies, trying to keep still as Annie pats her chest. 

“Yes, yes they are.” Annie agrees, and begins to carefully pin the fabric of the dress. “You’re gonna look like absolute perfection Margaret.” She adds pridefully. 

\--

Andrea tugs her shirt back on. She is in another room in the big Paxton home. She strokes a beautifully embroidered veil on a wooden dummy head. Two more seamstresses discuss in the background with Grace. She slips her jacket back on, heading for the door. 

“Don’t you try to find Margaret yet! It’s bad luck to see the dress before the big day!” Grace calls as Andrea leaves. 

“I won’t, mom!” She replies, and heads down to the first floor. 

It is quite quiet without the usual busy activity of the household. 

Andrea strolls around the main floor, in her thick socks. Her father’s office door is slightly ajar, and she spots a suit jacket lying over the back of one of the chairs. 

“Dad?” Andrea calls lightly, knocking on the door and peaking in. No response. She slips inside and strolls over to the chair, hand ghosting over the suit. On his desk, a matching tie sits abandoned over top of the stapler. Three different lapel pins sit in a row, the last is off kilter, and it looks like he had been trying to decide which one to wear before he’d been interrupted. 

Andrea picks up her favourite, of their family crest, and twirls it around in her fingers. She smiles to herself and rises, heading back out of the office with the lapel pin in hand, into the hall where she left her boots. 

On the desk to the right of the pins lie a few scattered and crumbled sticky notes. The writing is hasty and half legible, but one of the least crumpled ones reads...

GILBERTSON ? INS FIVE YRS PRISON !?

FRAUDULENT MARRIGE

\--

Geoffrey hits golf balls with his club, toward a dock covered in green with a hole and flag just like a regular golf course. He isn’t hitting very well and the balls land in the water with little ‘PLUNK’ sounds. He spots Andrea walking down toward him and sighs, waving by mere habit before picking up another ball and setting it down on the T.

“Your mom found these ‘eco-balls’.” Geoffrey says when Andrea is closer. “They dissolve in water and have some kind of benefits for the water.” He shrugs and lines up his shot. He hits the ball and he and Andrea watch it sail through the air and land on the green. It misses the hole but doesn’t fall into the water.

“I don’t know how she finds this stuff.” Andrea says with affectionate disbelief.

“Did I tell you we’re opening an office in Japan?” 

Andrea shakes her head. “No. Congratulations.” 

Geoffrey rolls another ball around in his hand. “We’re not just a mom-and-pop organization anymore. We’ve built an empire— me and your mother, from your great-grandfather’s businesses.” 

Andrea doesn’t say anything, digs the toe of her boot into the grass.

“I could really use your help.” Geoffrey finally says. 

Andrea sighs. “Dad. Please. I’m in New York. Margaret’s in New York. We have jobs, responsibilities.” 

“You have responsibilities here.” Geoffrey implores. 

Andrea looks at him with unconcealed disappointment. “Are you ever going to take what I do seriously?” She asks. 

Geoffrey plants his golf club in the grass and gives Andera a hard look. “I guess I don’t understand why you would abandon,” he motions around them, “ _all this_ , financial security at the very least, for work that left you so emotionally exhausted, and doesn’t pay as much…”

“I spent three summers on the fishline, dad.” Andrea reminds. “I earned every penny from that, and it was _good money_. Those folks were the best folks I ever worked with. When I wasn’t working, I was sleeping, I was sure I always smelled like fish no matter how long I bathed, and I couldn’t stand the smell for two years after I left.” 

“I worked the fishline too, Andrea… all the Paxton’s did.” 

“I may not have earned as much as an assistant in a month compared to the fish line, I may have been tired and stressed, but I have met incredible writers of extremely diverse experiences. I have gotten to see people’s soul on paper and shared with the world. I’m comfortable, and I’m happy. My work _makes me happy_. Can you understand that?”

Geoffrey is silent for a moment, and digs his club into the grass. “If that makes you happy, I can’t say anything else about it.” Geoffrey clears his throat, almost pleading, making sure. “You’re sure that’s what you want? The job, this marriage?”

Andrea doesn’t have any more argument in her. She nods. “I am. Hundred percent.”

Neither of them say anything for a long moment. The water laps at the shore. 

“I picked a lapel pin for you.” Andrea says, holding it up. 

He can’t pretend any longer. “I don’t think I can participate in your wedding.”

They look at her each other for a long time, and Andrea’s expression changes, surprised to angry to utterly grief stricken. She clutches the lapel pin in her hand so tightly her knuckles go white. 

“Fuck you!” She grits out, throwing the pin down at his feet in disdain. “I can’t believe I thought you’d walk me down the aisle! I’m such an idiot!” She screams at him. Tears welling in her eyes and her breath coming out in sobs. 

“Don’t even come! I don’t want to see you at all! I don’t have time for you to step up and deal with this identity crisis! This is it! No more apologies, you don’t get to change your mind!” 

Andrea stalks away, furious, and Geoffrey doesn’t stop her.

\--

Dressed once again, Margaret and Grace are walking along the property with Samwise in tow on his leash. 

“I’m glad he’s alright.” Margaret says. “That was something else.” 

“No such thing as outdoor pets here.” Grace replies. “We are neighbours with the wilderness, even on our little island.” 

Margaret looks around for Andrea, but she is nowhere to be seen so far. Grace had told her she’d come outside after her fitting, and couldn’t find Geoffrey, so they’d come out together to find their respective partners. 

In the distance Margaret hears a sound she is unfamiliar with, but Grace lightens up. 

“Oh, Andy must be chopping wood.” She says, and starts steering them in the direction of the sound. 

Margaret sees Andrea in the distances and smiles. She has foregone her jacket and sweater, and is wearing safety glasses and workers gloves as she splits logs from a large stack on the far side of the property. She’s wearing headphones, and doesn’t see or hear Grace and Margaret approaching. 

“Oh dear.” Grace says, suddenly realizing. She stops, not getting any closer. 

“What?” Asks Margaret, genuinely concerned. 

“She’s upset about something. I can tell.” Grace says, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Maybe I should go talk to her…” Margaret takes a step, but Grace puts a hand on her arm. 

“It’s better to let her work it out on the wood.” She says. “I think I need to have a word with my husband, and if Andrea’s in the state she is, I can only imagine he’s hoping I don’t find him.”

Grace excuses herself and takes Samwise with her. 

Margaret watches Andrea split the wood for a few minutes, struggling to decide whether or not to disregard what Grace had said and go see Andrea. Ultimately she heeds a mother’s warning and heads back to the house on her own. 

\--

Margaret knows she isn’t alone in the big house. She can still hear Annie and the seamstresses working, but she feels very alone and can barely focus on the book she’d pulled from one of the large shelves. 

She hears the veranda doors slide open and has her heart in her throat thinking that it might be Geoffrey returning, but Samwise’s bark reassures her and Grace follows him in a few seconds later. Grace looks upset and Margaret sets down the book and stands. 

“You found him.” Margaret says, and Grace nods. 

“I’m sure he feels very proud of himself right now. Got enough of an earful from Andy, and I didn’t let that stop me.” Grace takes off her coat and hangs it in the nearby closet.

“What happened?” 

Grace sighs. “They exchanged words, and Geoffrey said he doesn’t think he can participate in the wedding. I told him if he feels that way he can stay in the guest house until the celebration is over and you two leave.” 

“I’m sorry.” Margaret replies, walking over to Grace. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Grace says, taking Margaret into a hug. “You head on upstairs, alright dear? We’ll give you two your space tonight, have something set aside for you if you get hungry later, but we’ll make ourselves scarce.” 

“Okay.” Margaret hugs Grace back, a little wet in the eyes when she rubs her back. 

“Andrea should be back soon, I saw her loading some logs into the wagon to leave by the backdoor.” 

“Thanks. Really. You’re doing so much for us.” 

Grace gives her a warm smile. “I’m glad to dear.” 

\--

When Andrea returns to her room, she can hear the water running from the partially ajar washroom door. She’d rubbed her eyes on her sleeves too much and has left red patchy marks on her cheeks. Andrea tosses her jacket and sweatshirt onto a chair and slowly begins to peel off the rest of her clothes. 

She steps into the washroom bare as the day she was born, gaze drawn to Margaret’s silhouette in the steamy glass shower stall. Andrea leans against the door frame and watches her move around the space for a moment. 

“Are you going to join me?” Margaret asks, and Andrea smiles, straightening up and walking over to the shower door. 

She opens it and slips inside, averting her gaze until she steps under the warm spray of water and tilts her head back, letting it soak her. 

Margaret watches Andrea with rapt attention, taking in every curve and hint of strength in her body, soaking in every inch of her. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” She whispers, and Andrea reaches out and draws Margaret into a hug, burying her face against Margaret’s neck. Margaret holds her, strokes her back and closes her eyes as they stand under the water. 

Margaret lets herself get lost in the feeling of Andrea’s hands on her skin, slipping one of her own hands over the width of Andrea’s biceps, feeling it flex under her touch. She hums appreciatively and feels Andrea smile against her neck before kissing her there. 

Andrea pulls Margaret into a deep kiss, backing her into the shower wall, and sliding her hands down her sides. Margaret’s hands find Andrea’s strong core, fingers more than eager to explore her, learn her. Andrea brings one hand over Margaret’s ass, and further to her thigh, lifting it so she can hook her leg around her own. 

Margaret watches Andrea’s face when she slides her hand back up her sides, coming to caress the side of her breast, and then all of it in the palm of her hand. She leans in and kisses Margaret as she trails her hand over her tummy, making her gasp when she slips her hand between Margaret’s legs, maintaining eye contact with each other as Andrea begins to move her hand. 

It’s Andrea who wins that staring contest, Margaret the first to cave, leaning her head back against the wall as the pleasure Andrea is giving her begins to overwhelm her. She finds herself clinging to Andrea, who ducks her head to suck at Margaret’s shoulder and neck, pulling desperate little moans from Margaret’s lips. 

\--

From the hallway, all is quiet, save for a small murmur of voices from the third floor. A young seamstress that had been helping Annie with Margaret’s dress walks by with a tray of drinks in her hands. A muted cry breaks the silence, just as the seamstress steps onto the staircase, she pauses for a second, then ascends quickly.

\--

Andrea smiles against Margaret’s distracted, breathless kisses, and peppers her own against Margaret’s cheeks, the corners of her mouth, and her chin while Margaret comes back to herself. 

Margaret finally laughs, bringing a hand up to grip Andrea’s hair and kiss her firmly, her own kisses venturing away from Andrea’s lips after a moment.

She leans her forehead against Andrea’s. “Your poor cheeks.” She murmurs, softly kissing the red marks high on Andrea’s cheeks as if by touch alone she could heal them. Andrea keeps her eyes closed as Margaret does this, taken by the intimacy of the gesture, and smiles when Margaret places two light kisses over each of her eyes.

“The water’s gonna get cold.” Andrea says. 

“Better finish up then.” 

\--

Dressed in proper pyjama pants and a fluffy red sweater, Margaret sits with her legs over Andrea’s lap. They had spread a spare duvet over the floor and recline together in front of the fire. Both of their hair is done up in a towel, and Margaret carefully rubs ointment over Andrea’s rubbed-raw cheeks. 

\--

It’s night. Beyond the light of the Sitka airport, it is pitch dark. A small plane makes its landing, Geoffrey Paxton is waiting behind the gate, where Annie and Grace had waited so eagerly for Andrea and Margaret’s arrival. Passengers filter off the plane. 

A man steps into the tarmac. With the sole addition of a coat, he is dressed in what could only be described as “professional hipster” attire. The look does not suit him. 

\--

Logs crackles softly in the fireplace, well stocked for the night. Across the room Andrea and Margaret are asleep. Andrea’s arm is draped over Margaret, resting on her ribs on the left side. Margarets hand rests just below that. Their rings sparkle in the firelight. 

\--

This kitchen of the Paxton home is empty when Margaret and Andrea come down in the morning. Andrea picks up a note off the island, and glances over it before slipping it into the pocket of her pyjama pants. 

“Everyone is at the barn.” Andrea says. “They’re decorating it and we’re not allowed to go find them.” She takes two mugs out of the cupboard and two chai tea bags. Margaret spots a jar of coffee grounds.

Feeling content and sentimental, Margaret reaches up and takes the jar down. She takes the lid off and brings it up to take in the smell, humming approvingly, glancing at Andrea who gives her an amused look.

“Show me how you make your coffee.” Margaret says, holding the jar to her chest. 

“Really?” 

Margaret nods. “I wanna try it.” She smiles when Andrea smiles, watching her replace the tea bags in the cupboard and pull a metal coffee strainer out instead. Before she gets started she leans in and kisses Margaret, who gives a breath of a laugh in response. 

Andrea sets the strainer on the island, and collects the rest of what she needs with confident familiarity. Margaret hops up and sits on the island as well, leaving Andrea enough space to work. She holds the jar of coffee grounds on her lap, watching Andrea with a relaxed affection.

Cinnamon, cocoa, and honey are placed on the island, and two little bowls and a tiny whisk. Andrea fills the kettle with water and turns it on, then returns to the island to carefully spoon out enough coffee for the both of them. Margaret watches her add the cocoa and cinnamon, and mix it in with their respective coffee ground before whisking it together. 

“You can mix it with anything, but I like the whisk.” Andrea says, and proceeds to add some honey to the bottom of their mugs. 

“Smells nice already.” Margaret says, reaching out to take Andrea’s wrist and guide her over. Andrea contentedly steps between Margaret’s legs and feels almost shy when her first move is to press gentle kisses to where her cheeks were so rubbed-raw the night before, before she kisses her lips. “They faded a lot.” Margaret says, and Andrea smiles. 

“Who knew you could worry so much.” Andrea teases, rubbing Margaret’s thigh idly. 

Margaret makes a face. “I was worried about you when Bob knocked your coffee all over you.”

Andrea hums in acknowledgement. “It wasn’t hot enough to do much damage.” 

“I noticed.” Margaret says, fingers ghosting over the hem of Andrea’s pyjama shirt. Andrea laughs and tugs Margaret closer, ducking her head to kiss her neck, smiling as she does. 

Margaret closes her eyes, circling her arms around Andrea’s neck and humming softly to the lovely feeling of her lips on her neck. The moment only lasts so long, the kettle boils and Margaret feels Andrea start to use some teeth, and while it makes her groan, she gives Andrea a little swat. 

“I didn’t bring enough makeup to cover hickeys.” She says, only half-complaining. “And the kettle is ready.” 

Andrea presses a final soft kiss against the tentative hickey she’d left on Margaret’s neck. “It’s a bit late to worry about hickeys, don’t you think.” She says as she pulls away, a finger tugging on the collar of Margaret’s shirt, revealing a trail of love bites over her right breast. “Besides mine are worse.”

Andrea tugs aside the collar of her sweater and Margaret’s cheeks go red, she hadn’t realized how much attention she’d paid to Andrea’s neck and shoulders, but they were impossible to ignore. “You don’t have to contend with the plunging neckline of Gammy’s old wedding dress. Do you?” Margaret says. 

Andrea grins, humming thoughtfully. “I can only imagine how good that’s gonna look on you.” 

Margaret smiles and watches Andrea grab the kettle and bring it back over. She tips the contents of one little bowl into the strainer and carefully begins to pour the hot water over it. The result is wonderfully aromatic and as soon as it reaches Margaret’s nose she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

Andrea makes quick work of the coffee, and finally presents a mug to Margaret. They take their first sip together and Margaret gives a hum of approval. 

“This is good.” She says, taking a bigger mouthful. Andrea nods. 

“I forgot how _comfy_ it was.” 

“That’s a good way to describe it.” 

\-- 

“Hurry up in there! I need to get you two into your final fittings.” Annie says, knocking on the bedroom door. Andrea laughs from the washroom, in the midst of brushing her teeth, standing in a robe with only a white bra and underwear. Margaret stands by the bed, tugging off pyjama bottoms. 

“We’re almost ready!” Margaret replies, and folds the pants and sets them down on the made bed. She pulls the top off just as Andrea leaves the washroom, chuckling when Andrea winds her arms around her from behind and kisses her cheek. 

“Don’t distract me now, or Gammy will break the door down.” Margaret says, leaning her head back against Andrea’s shoulder taking a deep breath as Andrea traces over the light hickeys she’d left on the rise of Margaret’s breast, and then down her right side. Andrea caresses the artful pair of swallows on Margaret’s ribs, and gives her a light squeeze. 

“I’ll see you later.” 

\-- 

The dress is even more beautiful the second time, and fits perfectly. Grace stands behind her beaming as Margaret takes in the finished product. 

“Wow.” She breathes.

“You can barely see the hickeys Andy left on you!” Annie exclaims proudly, and Margaret hides her embarrassed blush behind her hand. 

“Mom!” Grace exclaims, but she’s amused as well. 

“Well!” Annie says, mock-seriously. “Shoulda told Andy to keep her mouth somewhere that wouldn’t be on display!” 

Margaret shakes her head. “I was a little preoccupied.” 

“Fine, fine.” Annie waves a hand dismissively. “I’ve got one more thing.” She goes off to search through a bag she’d brought with her. 

“I know Geoffrey hasn’t made this visit easy for you…” Grace says gently, self-consciously. “But I was thinking… maybe we’d head down your way? For the holidays?”

Margaret is taken suddenly, by the sweetness of Grace’s words. Her holidays for the last twenty-some-odd years have been celebrated on her own. 

“I think… I think that would be nice.” Margaret says, nodding. “Making sure everyone has enough space to… be.” She tries, not sure if she’s expressing herself right. If Geoffrey came to New York with Grace, at least he and Andrea would have space to exist separate from each other. 

“Yes, that would be nice.” Grace agrees. 

“But I do like it here.” Margaret interjects. “It’s beautiful, and...” she doesn’t know how to express how right it feels to be around a family again. 

“We’ll see. No telling how everything will be.”

“I’ve got it, come here Margaret! Have a seat at the vanity and I’ll put this one you.” Annie says, and Margaret wastes no time in doing as she’s told. 

“I’ll go check on Andrea.” Grace says, and excuses herself.

Annie slips a simple silver chain around her neck, sitting exactly at the center of her chest, drawing the gaze up from the deep neckline. The gem is drop shaped and light blue, glimmering softly as Annie closes the clasp on the chain. 

“It’s beautiful.” Margaret says, reaching up to touch the stone.

“You needed something blue.” Annie says, patting her shoulder and meeting her gaze in the mirror. “It’s silly I know but I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“It’s perfect.” 

“I want you to have it.” Annie says. “It’s been in the family for a hundred and fifty years—”

Margaret feels her eyes stinging. “I can’t… that’s so… it’s too…”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Annie scolds. “Grandmothers love to give their stuff to their grandchildren.” She says, smoothing her hand over Margaret’s hair. “It makes us feel like we’ll still be part of your lives, even after we’re gone.” 

Margaret laughs. “Don’t go anywhere just yet, Gammy, we just met.” She says, blinking back tears. 

“So you’ll take it?” 

Margaret nods. “I’ll take it.” 

\--

Andrea sits by the dock, skipping stones. She’s dressed in jeans and a thick wool sweater and her lace up boots. Margaret makes her way down the path, wearing Andrea’s corduroy jacket. For once she looks perfectly dressed for the weather. 

To their left the yacht that had taken them to and from the island is docked, and a little further down are two other smaller speed boats. Margaret stops and sits on the dock a little ways behind Andrea and looks out at the water. Her calm is all facade. Andrea throws another stone and it skips four times. 

“It feels weird just waiting.” Andrea says, looking back at Margaret. She can tell she has a lot on her mind. “You alright?” 

Margaret nods, it isn’t convincing. “Can we take a boat ride? Get away from everyone for a bit.” 

Andrea looks at her for a moment, wondering if she should ask, and decides not to. 

“Yeah, come on.” She straightens up and holds out her hand, waiting for Margaret to take it before making their way down the dock to the small boat. 

Andrea helps her on then climbs on herself, after untethering the boat from the dock. She makes her way to the driver’s seat, looking behind her to see that Margaret has found a spot to sit in the back. 

\--

The view from the water is vast and beautiful, green and white and open. 

Margaret remains quiet, taking everything in with a thoughtful and appreciative expression. At the same time however, she seems far away. And Andrea notices this every time she glances back at her as they drive through the water. 

“She gave me her necklace.” Margaret finally says, thinking herself to be calm enough now, but as soon as Andrea looks back at her she loses all of her composure and bursts into tears. 

“Hey hey!” Andrea says soothingly, stopping the boat and coming to sit next to her. “What’s wrong?” She envelopes Margaret in a tight hug, and Margaret clings to her, quiet sobs wracking her slim frame.

“What’s the matter?” Andrea asks, rubbing Margaret’s back, but all Margaret can muster out are shaky sobs. 

“I forgot.” She finally gets out, muffled from having her face hidden against Andrea’s shoulder. 

“What did you forget?” 

Margaret pulls away, keeping Andrea at arm’s length. 

“I forgot— I forgot what it was like to have a family.” She cries, a shudder claiming her as tears drip down her cheeks. “I forgot what it’s like to have people that love you.” Margaret looks away embarrassed and trying to force herself to calm down with little success.

“Family who wanna visit on holidays, and family who pass on family heirlooms…” She shrugs, sucking in short little breaths and screwing her eyes shut, but the tears just keep coming. “I’ve been _alone_ for twenty three years, and they’ve known me for two days and offer all this.” 

Andrea pulls Margaret onto her lap and hugs her again, cupping her face and kissing her wet cheeks, and her salty lips. Margaret takes in a shaky breath, leaning her forehead against Andrea’s.

“They’d be so happy for you.” Andrea murmurs, and Margaret smiles sadly.

“You think?” She wraps her arms around Andrea’s shoulders.

Andrea nods, and Margaret kisses her chastely, leaning her head against her shoulder again and taking some slow deep breaths. “I’m sorry about your dad.” She says quietly, and feels Andrea sigh. 

“I thought it would be easier.” Andrea admits, voice catching in her throat. “Having him disapprove of a fake engagement.” She laughs a little, a sad sound. “But it stopped being fake and I got my hopes up… that he’d walk me down the aisle.” Fat tears drip down Andrea’s cheeks, and she sniffs, and wipes one cheek roughly with her sleeve. 

“Hey…” Margaret protests, sitting up and caressing Andrea’s face. “Be gentle.” She says, kissing her cheek and wiping her other tear away with a delicate swipe of her thumb. “I’m getting married to that pretty face in a few hours.” 

Andrea laughs. 

“Do you want to head back?” She asks after a moment. 

“Is there a scenic route?” Margaret replies. 

\--

Andrea drives the boat through a field of ice, and Margaret stands behind her, holding into the handle and looking out at the snow. 

“There’s a whale over there.” Andrea points, voice loud over the engine. Margaret sees it in the distance, breaching. 

“You wanna go fast?” Andrea calls. 

“Sure!” 

“Hold on!” Andrea warns, and speeds the boat up. 

Margaret’s hair blows out behind her. In a moment of impulsiveness she holds out her arms and leans her head back, letting herself feel the wind rippling at her clothes. The relaxation in her posture is completely opposite to that of how she held herself back in New York. 

A loud thump and scraping makes the boat lurch suddenly. Andrea screams in alarm, barely managing to catch herself from being thrown forward, Margaret tries to grasp the handle on Andrea’s seat but she misses and with a shriek tumbles over the side of the boat and into the water. 

Margaret gasps when she hits the water, goes under and flails, coming up sputtering. All she can hear is her heart hammering in her ears and perhaps the ghost of a scream cut off by cold water up her nose. 

She can see the sky, she can see the water, she can see the snow and ice. White and blue and navy, and black, and brown. 

Andrea grabs Margaret’s arm and pulls hard, dragging her out of the water and getting her other arm under Margaret’s to drag her back onto the boat. 

Margaret chokes, grappling against Andrea, still only hearing the hammering of her heart bear in her ears. Andrea supports Margaret, holding her at an angle to let gravity help get any water out of her mouth. 

As the panic resides, she can hear Andrea’s sobbed apologies, and feel her warm hand stroking her hair. “Oh god I’m so sorry, you’re okay— I’m so sorry, fuck fuck I’m so sorry.”

Margaret pushes herself up against the sudden bout of shivering that claims her and collapses against Andrea, hardly calm but unable to do anything else. Andrea starts peeling the corduroy jacket off her shoulders, and Margaret lets her. 

“Wh—what are you doing?” She manages, taken by convulsive shivering. 

“This thing is soaking…” Andrea says, tossing the jacket aside and peeling her wool knit sweater over her head and helping Margaret into it. She still has a long sleeve thermal shirt on underneath. Andrea gathers Margaret in her arms again and thoroughly rubs her. 

“This feels silly.” Margaret says, still shivering. 

“I need to warm you up.” Andrea retorts, exhaling shakily. “I’m so sorry, god I’m so sorry.” 

“Is the boat okay?” Margaret asks. 

“I think so, I think so.” 

“Let’s go back.” Margaret says. “I don’t wanna be here anymore. I’m fine. I’m fine.” 

Andrea helps her up and brings her over to the front of the boat. She slides into the driver’s seat with Margaret beside her, and starts the boat again. 

\-- 

Andrea doesn’t let Margaret get more than a few steps up the dock before she scoops her up bridal style and carries her toward the house, accepting no protests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments are greatly appreciated!


	5. The Closing Remarks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally at the end! Here is the final important outfit reference, for the ~~wedding~~ , [here](https://78.media.tumblr.com/761f974a5c642850cff8b821a864b4f3/tumblr_peg96n9qei1shc5aro4_r1_1280.png). Here is a ref to Margaret's [tattoo.](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c5/09/f5/c509f561d31495ac401e9c12a8fc38cf.jpg)
> 
> There are some links to instrumental songs included within the chapter. Listen as you please.
> 
> Enjoy!

Margaret lets Andrea help her out of her soaking clothes, and into some black long johns. She drags a thick wool blanket out of the armoire and wraps it around Margaret’s shoulders. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Margaret mumbles when Andrea draws her into another hug. 

“I’m so sorry.” Andrea says again, guiding Margaret over to the duvet still on the floor before the fire. She gets on her hands and knees and stokes the fire, adding another log before replacing the grate and sitting back, immediately looping an arm over Margaret’s shoulder. 

“You know they say intense situations are good for romance?” Margaret says. Andrea laughs in disbelief, giving a slight whine when Margaret pulls her in for a kiss. 

“I think we’ve had enough intensity for one day.” Andrea says softly when she pulls away. “I’d like everything to be underwhelming from here on out.” 

There is a sharp knock at the door. “Andy are you there, dear? I need you to come make a few _decisions_!” Annie calls, and Andrea breathes a laugh. 

“Go, go.” Margaret insists. “I won’t go anywhere.” 

Andrea kisses her firmly, and gets up. “Stay. Warm up.”

\--

Margaret does stay put, getting a bit of a cat-nap in before another knock at the door rouses her. No call of greeting accompanies the knock. Margaret sits up and brushes her hair out of her face with her hand. It’s still a bit damp. Another knock. 

“Coming.” She calls getting up and making her way to the door. 

Geoffrey is behind the door when Margaret opens it, and despite not holding the same resentments toward him as Andrea, she is still reserved. Margaret shivers and an expression of concern flashes over his features before he schools it and returns to looking impartial. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, anyway. 

“I fell in the water.” Margaret replies flatly. 

He seems torn between concern and resolve and picks the latter with difficulty. 

“May I speak to you privately?” He asks. 

Margaret regards him for a few seconds. “Sure, come in.” 

“At the guest house.” He elaborates. She isn’t particularly thrilled about it, but she nods. 

“Let me grab a coat.” Margaret says, and finds Andrea’s light grey wool coat the nearest and most convenient option. She ties the belt and motions for Geoffrey to go ahead, following him into the hall and down the stairs. 

Geoffrey goes ahead and waits on the veranda while Margaret pulls on a pair of ankle boots. 

“Hey…” Andrea says from the top of the stairs, and Margaret looks up. “Where are you going?” 

“Your dad wants to talk to me.” Margaret says, giving her an apologetic expression. 

Andrea makes a face. “Well I’m coming.” 

Margaret doesn’t argue. 

They step outside and it’s clear that Geoffrey was counting on Andrea being occupied for a little while. He starts up the path ahead of them without greeting her. 

“We have to start getting ready soon.” Andrea calls, loudly enough for her dad to hear. 

“I don’t think this will take long.” 

\--

Geoffrey unlocks the front door to the guest house and lets Andrea and Margaret go in ahead of him. 

“Have a seat.” He invites, and they do. Geoffrey paces for a moment. 

“Dad…” Andrea says, somewhat pleading with him to get on with it or let them leave. 

“I got a call from the INS yesterday.” Geoffrey says, clearing his throat. “From a man who strongly implied that you would be committing marriage fraud with this wedding.”

Margaret stiffens, and Andrea straightens up. 

“I can’t believe this.” She says. 

Geoffrey looks at her. “Then why did he say he has proof _this relationship_ only began on Friday!? Why did he say you’re trying to manipulate the immigration system!?” 

Margaret stands, putting her hand on Andrea’s shoulder. “Our relationship is none of your business.” 

There is a creak from the stairs, and Andrea and Margaret look toward it, and then at each other and then at Geoffrey. 

“Is someone else here?” Margaret asks.

“What did you do?” Andrea accuses. 

With obnoxious footsteps, Gilbertson steps down onto the main floor. 

“Dad what did you do!” Andrea raises her voice. 

“Oh Andrea no need to shout.” Gilbertson assures, tone so condescending that even Geoffrey picks up on it. “Your father and I have come to an understanding.” 

“Excuse me?” Margaret bites out, Andrea reaches up and takes Margaret’s hand.

“He’ll make sure you won’t get into any trouble.” Geoffrey tries to explain, but Gilbertson cuts him off. 

“All necessary parties will be made known that Margaret Tate blackmailed you into taking part in this scheme by offering you a promotion and having your manuscript published. You will keep your job and move on with your life and she will be brought up on charges of attempted fraud by misrepresentation and deported to Canada.” 

Margaret looks at Geoffrey. “This man is playing you.” 

“Is he?” Geoffrey replies, genuinely asking. 

“He’s the fraud.” Andrea says, voice cutting. “He’s been _stalking_ Margaret and is the one blackmailing her over her immigration file. Well that didn’t work.” 

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Andrea.” Gilbertson says. “I know you lesbians do that U-Hauling thing, but I’m afraid when it comes to _matters of immigration_ , the law finds very sudden marriage plans rather suspicious.” 

“Fuck you.” Andrea bites out. 

Gilbertson tuts his tongue. “I don’t think I’m your type.”

“Watch what you say!” Geoffrey barks, turning to Gilbertson. “I brought you here because you said my daughter was in trouble—”

“And she will be if she goes ahead with this marriage, I assure you.” 

“Excuse me?” Geoffrey puts his hand on his hips, and making a barrier between himself and Andrea and Margaret. 

“You seem like a smart and capable man, Mister Paxton. Because it takes a lot to create what you have.” He reaches into his coat pocket and they all stiffen. 

“That’s enough!” Geoffrey exclaims, but Gilbertson pulls crumpled photographs from his breast pocket and shakes them before throwing them down on the floor. 

“Proof is all there! Years of proof, that Margaret Tate is a lonely, _loveless_ woman, obsessed with furthering her career of gatekeeping the creative ventures of people like me!”

Andrea, Margaret and Geoffrey glance down at the photographs. Most of the photographs are of Margaret, all are time stamped. Some are years old: many of Margaret taken from outside her apartment, pouring over piles of manuscripts late at night. Others are recent, of Andrea entering and leaving the jewelry shop in New York, of Margaret and Andrea in the park by the pond. 

“You’ve made enough of a fool out of me, mister.” Geoffrey says firmly. A warning. “I can tell you are a desperate man. And I’m smart enough to know I’ve dug myself a deep enough rut with my daughter without your help. I am asking you to leave Mister Gilbertson.”  
Gilbertson has begun to turn an awful angry red. “I have worked too hard to be ignored!” He bites out. “I hold all the cards! I have the proof!” He wields a thumb drive on a keyring that rattles slightly.

“Dad?” Andrea says cautiously. 

“Go on get out of here.” Geoffrey says calmly, and Margaret nudges Andrea’s shoulder and she gets up slowly. 

“I will ruin you Margaret! I will rui—” 

“I will ask one time to _shut your mouth_ , or so help me I will shut it for you.” Geoffrey warns. 

Andrea opens the door, ushering Margaret out of the guest house. 

“The Dowton boys are helping set things up in the barn. Would you ask them to come down here, please.”

“Okay.”

\--

Andrea runs up to the barn with Margaret a few paces behind. Family friends and Sitka locals are making the finishing touches for the wedding venue, hanging lights, and putting up decorations.

“Mom!” Andrea shouts. “Mom!” 

Grace comes out of the barn. “What honey?” She gets one look at Andrea’s expression her face falls. “What’s the matter?!” 

“Geoffrey needs the Dowton boys at the guest house.” Margaret says urgently. 

“Now!” Andrea adds, and the fear in her voice sets Grace into motion. 

“Caleb!” Grace shouts, turning stepping back into the barn. “Tony!” Margaret hears a man’s reply from inside the barn. “I need you boys at the guest house right now!”

The brothers quickly appear at the door of the barn, stepping out to see Andrea and Margaret.

“What’s the matter Misses Paxton?” The taller brother, Caleb, asks. Tony appears at his shoulder. 

“My dad needs your help escorting someone off the island.” Andrea says. “I’m not sure if he’ll cooperate.” 

The brothers exchange looks and run off without another word. 

Andrea opens her arm and Margaret steps into her embrace, wrapping her arms around Andrea’s middle and leaning her head on her shoulder. Grace crosses her arms, confused and concerned.

“What’s all the hullabaloo!” Annie calls from inside the barn, appearing at the door a few seconds later. Ever the perceptive woman, she gets one look at Margaret and Andrea and understands that something is wrong.

“Geoffrey needed the Dowton boys to help him _escort someone_ off the island.” Grace explains, looking to Andrea for more information, Margaret turns to face them, still leaning on Andrea.

“Who on earth would he nee—”

“It’s a long story.” Margaret interrupts. 

“Well you’d better start telling it!” Annie exclaims. “You’re losing time by the second, you two need to start getting dressed soon!” 

Andrea and Margaret exchange looks.

\--

Margaret sits to one side of the stairs on the veranda at the house, while Annie and Grace sit on the other. Andrea stands, pacing somewhat, hands in her pockets. 

“So he’s been stalking you for _that long_!” Annie says, horrified. Margaret nods, the realization has only just begun to sink in. 

Grace shakes her head. “And you two just _decided_ to get married to...”

“—to throw him off.” Andrea says. “He thought he had it all figured out.” 

“So all of this was a lie?” Grace asks, visibly hurt.

“No.” Margaret says quickly, meeting Andrea’s gaze. “At first— I did promise to promote her but…”

“So it was a sham!” Grace cries, halfway to tears. 

“No mom!” Andrea insists. “I thought it was an extreme idea, but seeing that man’s attitude— I couldn’t… 

“I asked her again after the bachelorette show.” Margaret says, cheeks reddening. She looks Grace and then Annie in the eyes before she goes on. “I asked her to marry me again.” 

Margaret can feel her eyes stinging and she looks up, finding Andrea looking at her with such affection she loses her train of thought for a moment. Margaret clears her throat. “For _real_.” 

“I just don’t understand how you could decide to get married so quickly!” Grace says, and yelps when Annie gives her a smack on the back of her head. 

“Oh cut it out, Gracie!” Annie chastises. “You can’t look at each other the way those two do and think they aren’t in love!” She gives a huff of annoyance. “Besides, you saw the hickeys they gave each other, I don’t think either of them are good enough actors to fake that!” 

Andrea laughs, and Grace shakes her head exasperatedly. 

Margaret catches sight of Geoffrey approaching around the house, pressing a hand to his face. 

“Geoffrey?” Margaret calls, standing and stepping down from the stairs. 

“Dad?!” Andrea walks over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He shakes his head. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He assures, walking the rest of the way to the veranda with Andrea at his side. 

“What happened with what’s-his-face?” Annie demands. 

Geoffrey lowers his hand, revealing a black eye. “I tried to talk him down, man got belligerent. So the Dowton boys helped me wrestle him into some zip ties and I called Eddie in town to meet us at the pier.” 

“And he hit you?” Andrea asks. 

Geoffrey shrugs. “He got in one or two good swings, but the man is all show and no follow-through.” He sounds disgusted. 

“So where is he now?” Grace asks. 

“Police station.” Geoffrey replies. “Eddie called up a buddy in New York, and got some information.” He looks at Margaret. “Daniel Gilbertson was fired from the New York Immigration Office three weeks ago for official misconduct and reports of irrational behaviour.” 

“You’re kidding.” Margaret breathes, looking at Andrea with a guilt stricken expression. 

“He had us too.” Andrea says, shaking her head. 

“Well that’s enough of that!” Annie stands, pointing at Andrea and Margaret. “Go get an ice pack for your eye Geoffrey, these girls need to start getting ready.” 

“Dad?” Andrea turns to him. 

“Yeah, Andy.” 

Andrea hugs him, and it surprises him, but he wraps his arms around her and hugs her back. 

“You said some hurtful things to me dad…” she says quietly. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I know.” 

“I don’t know how to be okay about that yet.” Andrea admits. 

“It’s okay, kiddo.” Geoffrey hugs her a little tighter. 

“But I’d really like it if you would walk me down that aisle.” She blinks back tears. 

Geoffrey laughs, nodding as he pulls away. “I can do that.” 

Andrea smiles and looks back at Margaret who smiles back at her. 

\--

_Two musicians arrive at the barn with a guitar and a violin and begin to practice as other locals continue to finish setting everything up in the barn. They exchange a few words with Grace and Annie before their music fills the space._

Margaret sits at a vanity getting her hair done. Her attention is focused on the notebook she has balanced on her knee. Grace ducks her head in and asks her something, Margaret smiles and grabs her phone off the vanity, checking something and reading some titles off her screen for Grace, who writes them down.

Andrea is in another room, her veil sits on a wooden dummy on desk to her left, she is writing on some loose paper, and bites at her pen when she pauses. A woman hands her a pair of earrings and she smiles and thanks her. Grace knocks and slips inside, asking Andrea something. Andrea thinks about it, and replies off the top of her head. Grace writes what she says down. 

\--

Guests begin to arrive, all dressed handsomely. Annie shoo’s the people helping set up off, and stands in the middle of the aisle, admiring the space with satisfaction. 

Guests fill the seats, and the musicians continue to play. Grace comes in, now all dressed for the wedding, and hands the musicians her piece of paper. They exchange a few words and nod reassuringly. Grace checks her watch, smiling. 

\--

Andrea stands with her back to the door, wearing a tailored white collared blouse. Her hair is done up in a low rolled bun drawn to the side, a decorative ornament is nestled into the bun and matches the pearlescence of her disc-shaped drop earrings. One of the local girls helps place the long veil on, the clips hidden by Andrea’s hair. The girl nods at Andrea and grins, and checks her watch. 

\--

Margaret slips a pair of diamond earrings matching the teardrop shape of her pale blue necklace. Her hair is done in soft curls, artfully pulled away from her face. One of the local girls hands her a cord-wrapped bouquet, all Sitka native plants and flowers. Forget-me-nots, bird vetch, dwarf fireweed, yellow marsh-marigolds, beach pea, yarrow and northern yarrow with little red flowers, goat’s beard, and a few fern leaves.

\--

Grace and Annie stand together, the barn door creaks open. Geoffrey holds the door open, clad in a fine suit and with family crest pin secured over his left lapel. He holds out a hand, helping Andrea step inside. The guests rise. Grace lets out an emotional laugh, eyes already sparkling with tears, at the sight of her daughter. 

Andrea is wearing a white tailored blouse with a high collar and long sleeves, it seamlessly transitions to matching white trousers, and white pumps. But the real show piece is the asymmetrical veil, falling to her calves in the back, and her waist at the front, embroidered with floral and leaf patterns all the way around, up a few inches from the hem. 

_The musicians begin playing an instrumental song,[“Fake Love”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjRdp_ZtYM0) by Beyond the Scenes._

With his hand held out like a dancer’s, Geoffrey takes Andrea’s hand and they begin their slow walk down the aisle. 

Andrea’s eyes are already teaming with tears as she takes in the beautiful decorations her family and friends had put together in the barn. Branches form an archway dotted with fairy lights, all the way to the seating area where the space is made breathtaking by local Sitka flora, beaded light fixtures and more fairy lights. 

They reach the end of the aisle, to the steps and landing that lead to the storage room, but for today serve as a small stage. 

Geoffrey faces Andrea and takes both of her hands in his and brings them up hold over his heart, before he lets go and gives her an encouraging smile. Inviting her to stand stage left. 

She looks out at the audience smiling nervously, until her gaze is drawn to the other end of the aisle where Annie still stands. 

Andrea takes a shaky breath when she hears the music change.

\--

_The musicians begin to play another instrumental, this time,[“All of Me” ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpYQh7eQULc)by John Legend._

Grace guides Margaret to the front of the aisle from a side room, squeezing her hand before handing her off to Annie. Margaret takes in the beautiful space in turn, gaze quickly falling to Andrea waiting for her at the other end. She gives a quiet laugh when she recognizes the song.

Margaret’s gown just barely reaches the floor, the sleeves reach the middle of her hand, and the rest is a true masterpiece in and of itself. Annie outdid herself with the tailoring, allowing the fabric to sit in all of the right places. Pearls and beading inlaid with the embroidery shine under the fairy lights and make Margaret look like a princess.

Arm in arm Annie walks Margaret down the aisle, and Margaret can feel her heart racing. All she has eyes for is Andrea, so much so that she has to pull her gaze away to receive Annie’s hug at the end of the aisle. She gives her the bouquet, and is greeted by Geoffrey. He gives her a light hug and kisses her cheek and invites her onto the stage. 

\--

Andrea holds out her hands for Margaret who takes them eagerly, looking her over with an awed expression. 

“You look beautiful.” Margaret whispers, and Andrea laughs, a tear slipping down her cheek. 

“So do you.” 

Margaret reaches out and gently lifts the veil from Andrea’s face, letting it float out behind her. 

“There she is.” Margaret says, taking Andrea’s hands once again.

Ramone steps before them on the stage, dressed in all black. Andrea and Margaret immediately begin to giggle, which sets the guests into a murmur of laughter as well. 

“Hi Ramone.” Andrea greets once she’s sobered her laughter. 

He bows to the couple and raises his hands to the crowd. 

“Please sit.”

Everyone sits. He looks at Margaret and Andrea and begins his opening address. 

“Friends and family, we are gathered here to witness and celebrate the union of Andrea and Margaret in marriage. Today, we create a new bond and new sense of family.

The story of your life together is yours to write, and as you join yourselves in marriage, there is a vast and unknown future stretching out before you.

Through your commitment to each other, may you grow and nurture a love that makes both of you better people, for in this moment you are embarking upon the grandest adventure of human interaction.”

Andrea and Margaret can hardly look away from each other, and it takes all of Margaret’s will power not to reach out and wipe away the happy, fat tears rolling down Andrea’s cheeks. 

Ramone reaches out, taking one of their hands each, and looking between them fondly. 

“Margaret and Andrea, together you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years. May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth."

Andrea smiles, incredibly moved. Ramone squeezes and pats her hand. 

“The exchange of vows is one of the most ancient part of a wedding ceremony.” Ramone says, addressing the audience. 

“They may be very simple words, but I am sure you can all understand the extraordinary meaning and importance in them.” 

Ramone now addresses Andrea and Margaret. “I will speak these words now and ask that you repeat them, each taking her own turn. Should you have any words of your own, you may speak them just after.” 

In turn, Andrea and Margaret repeat after Ramone.

I take you Margaret to be my wife.  
To share with you our laughter.  
To work by your side and dream in your arms.  
To kiss away any tears.  
To fill your heart and feed your soul.  
To always seek out the best in you.  
To be proud to say that you are mine.  
And to love you with all my heart.  
| I take you Andrea to be my wife.  
To share with you our laughter.  
To work by your side and dream in your arms.  
To kiss away _every_ tear.  
To fill your heart and feed your soul.  
To always seek out the best in you.  
To be proud to say that you are mine.  
And to love you with all my heart.  
  
---|---  
  
“You may now share you own words.” Ramone says, nodding to Grace, who stands and gives Margaret her small torn out notebook pages, and Andrea her sheets of loose leaf. 

“Do you want to go first?” Margaret says quietly, and Andrea shakes her head. 

“You go ahead.”

“Okay.” Margaret looks down at her paper taking a deep breath. 

“I have been one my own for a long time, and spent much of it alone. I became very well acquainted with feeling lonely. Twenty years is a long time to feel lonely. I have had relationships, but I always kept some parts of me off limits, usually to the detriment of said relationships.” Margaret laughs sheepishly. 

“See, I don’t like having flowers in the house, because they remind me of funerals. My home was full of them for weeks after my parents passed away, suddenly, when I was fourteen. I never shared that though— I always let myself feel a hurt deep when I was gifted with flowers, and never told anyone why I would throw them away so quickly.”

She sighs, going on. “I thought I was alone all this time, and I thought I was comfortable with it. But I can look back and see that I haven’t been alone, not for three years and seven months. Because that’s when I met Andrea. She has been at my side all that time, and I was blind to a lot of it, because I was hard strung to reach a career goal I’d been working towards for so long. But I can see now, I never would have gotten there, and I never would have gotten _here_ without her loyalty and patience, and I am so so scared but I welcome it... because you’re here to brave it with me.”

Another thick tear drips down Andrea’s cheek. She nods and gives a light sniff. 

“God I can barely see.” She laughs, looking up to blink some tears out of her eyes. There is an affectionate murmur from the crowd. Andrea unfolds her paper and looks down at them.

“I have had some very emotional nights working with you for the last almost-four years, Margaret.” She clears her throat. “Some of those nights I wondered if I would make it in this job, if I was cut out for my dream, and if I’d made a mistake leaving the comforts and challenges of Sitka. But no matter how tired or frustrated I got, the successes felt so worth it, and I was proud to be working for such an esteemed editor. An attractive, successful, intimidating woman. Who challenged me in ways I hadn’t been before.”

Andrea blinks against, sighing when more tears slip down her cheeks. “I’ve had the privilege of meeting your insecurities, and your vulnerabilities and your softness, and I have cherished all of it. You have made me a better writer, and you have taken me on an adventure I never expected. I can only imagine where we’ll go next, but again, I don’t have to imagine. ‘Cause we’re gonna live it out together, and you’re right, that is scary, because I didn’t know I’d be here a few days ago, but goddamn I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now.”

Margaret takes her hand and gives it a tight squeeze, feeling her own eyes begin to sting with tears, it is all she can do to keep herself from kissing Andrea right this second. 

Ramone makes a motion and a child comes over and gives him the rings.

In his right hand he holds a silver hand and Margaret’s engagement ring, which he presents to Andrea. 

“Andrea, you give this ring to Margaret so that she may wear it as a reminder of your promise to her.” 

Andrea picks up the band, taking Margaret’s left hand, and slipping it onto her ring-finger, then she slips the engagement ring on as well. 

“I will wear it gladly.” Margaret says. 

“Margaret,” Ramone presents a silver band and Andrea’s engagement ring to her. “You give this ring to Andrea so that she may wear it as a reminder of your promise to her.” 

Margaret takes the band, slipping it onto Andrea’s waiting ring-finger, and follows it with her engagement ring. 

“I will wear it gladly.” Andrea says.

Ramone faces the audience, raising his arms. “In the power vested in me, by the state of Alaska, I now pronounce you married! You may kiss.” 

Margaret stands on her toes, leaning her arms on Andrea’s shoulder, cupping her face and kissing her with deep enthusiasm. Andrea winds her arms around Margaret and holds her desperately close, unable to keep a grin off her face as they kiss. Margaret pulls away to kiss Andrea’s cheeks, cleaning away the tears, and making Andrea laugh. 

The whole room bursts with applause and cheers, and Andrea and Margaret kiss again.

_The musicians begin playing a new instrumental,[“Rather Be”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ekMzACTIVEY) by Clean Bandit._

The upbeat and sudden energy of the music has Margaret and Andrea pulling apart with laughter, and the rest of the crowd joining in. 

A camera clicks, capturing Andrea and Margaret in a instance of joy and affection. Andrea’s arm wrapped around Margaret’s waist, and Margaret’s around Andrea’s shoulder, drawing each other close, cheeks warm with colour, and damp with tears, but smiles on their faces that read nothing other than overwhelming contentment.

\--

That same photograph sits framed on a shelf in the front room of Margaret and Andrea’s home, along with other photographs that commemorated the night. 

Annie popping open a bottle of champagne. 

Geoffrey and Andrea hugging. 

Andrea and Margaret dancing together intimately, with Grace and Geoffrey in the background.

Margaret wielding the cake knife while Andrea holds the first slice on a plate in her hand, both laughing.

Geoffrey dancing with Samwise.

A loud slam can be heard, and a exaggerated groan. 

“You are such a goddamn _comma slut_!” Margaret yells, and Andrea laughs, half in hysterics as she dodges furniture to run away from her wife. 

Margaret chases her with a rolled up manuscript in her hands, managing to smack Andrea on the ass with it. “Terrible! How do you manage it?” She scolds, trying to not laugh herself. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Andrea exclaims, rushing into the bedroom and hiding around one side of the bed, still giggling.

“Every twenty pages or so I am suddenly _accosted_ with commas!” Margaret tosses the manuscript onto the bed, and tries to circle it, but Andrea climbs on, trying to flee. Margaret intercepts, climbing onto the bed from the foot of it and pinning Andrea down. 

“What will I do with you?” She asks with mock exasperation, and Andrea runs her hands up Margaret’s sides. 

“Are you taking suggestions?” Andrea asks, flipping Margaret onto her back and pinning her to the bed, settling between her legs. She ducks her head and kisses Margaret’s neck. 

Margaret laughs. “Don’t you try to distract me—” She says, though there is no weight behind it, she is already leaning head head back to give Andrea more room. 

“The commas can wait.” Andrea muses, running her hand over Margaret’s thigh. 

Margaret winds her arms around Andrea’s shoulders, “What if they multiply while we’re otherwise occupied?” 

“Oh I’m sure they won’t.” Andrea assures, coming up to kiss Margaret on the mouth. 

As they continue to indulge in each other, Andrea pries the manuscript from under Margaret and tosses it onto the floor. It lands awkwardly. What can be seen on the visible pages is no little amount of editing marks done in blue pen, circles, underlines, lines directing one to comments. The else, however, is an undeniable by-line.

WRITTEN BY ANDREA PAXTON.

Amidst laughter and sounds of contentment, a blouse lands on top of the manuscript and shrouds it in darkness.

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Writing this the past week has been a true joy and challenge, and I'm so very glad to be sharing it with you.


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